LADY 
LARKSPUR 


MEREDITH 
NICHOLSON 


BY  MEREDITH  NICHOLSON 

LADY   LARKSPUR 

THE  MADNESS  OF   MAY 

THE  VALLEY   OP   DEMOCRACY 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


LADY  LARKSPUR 


LADY  LARKSPUR 


BY 

MEREDITH  NICHOLSON 


Co?r RIGHT,  1910,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  March,  1919 


CorVRICMT.  l»18.  BY  P.  F.  COLLIER  4   SONS.  INC. 


TO 
BENNETT  AND   PEGGY  GATES 


2226SQQ 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  **•* 

I.    THE  "TROOPS" i 

II.    THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 38 

III.  A  FAN 79 

IV.  PURSUING  KNIGHTS 112 

V.    ALICE 138 


CHAPTER  I 
THE  "TROOPS" 

"TT  was  hard  luck,"  said  Searles,  "that  I 
JL  should  spend  a  year  writing  a  play  for  a 
woman  only  to  find  that  she  had  vanished — 
jumped  off  the  earth  into  nowhere.  This  was 
my  highest  flight,  Singleton,  the  best  writing 
I  ever  did,  and  after  the  vast  pains  I  took  with 
the  thing,  the  only  woman  I  ever  saw  who 
could  possibly  act  it  is  unavailable;  worse 
than  that,  absolutely  undiscoverable !  No 
body  knows  I  have  this  script;  I've  kept  quiet 
about  it  simply  because  I'm  not  going  to  be 
forced  into  accepting  a  star  I  don't  want.  I 
have  a  feeling  about  this  play  that  I  never 
had  about  my  other  things.  That  girl  was  its 
inspiration.  The  public  has  been  so  kind  to 
my  small  offerings  that  I'm  trying  to  lead  'em 
on  to  the  best  I  can  do;  something  a  little  finer 
and  more  imaginative,  with  a  touch  of  poetry, 
if  you  please.  And  now " 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

He  rose  from  his  broad  work-table  (he 
scorned  the  familiar  type  of  desk)  and  glared 
at  me  as  though  I  were  responsible  for  his 
troubles.  As  he  knew  I  had  been  flying  in  the 
French  Aviation  Corps  for  two  years  and  had 
just  been  invalided  home,  I  didn't  think  it 
necessary  to  establish  an  alibi.  But  I  hast 
ened  to  express  my  sympathy  for  his  predica 
ment.  Fate  had  been  kind  to  Dick  Searles. 
In  college  he  had  written  a  play  or  two  that 
demonstrated  his  talent,  and  after  a  rigid  ap 
prenticeship  as  scene-shifter  and  assistant  pro 
ducer  he  had  made  a  killing  with  "Let  George 
Do  It,"  a  farce  that  earned  enough  to  put 
him  at  ease  and  ™"ke  possible  an  upward  step 
into  straight  comedy.  Even  as  we  talked  a 
capacity  house  was  laughing  at  his  skit, 
"Who  Killed  Cock  Robin?"  just  around  the 
corner  from  his  lodgings.  So  his  story  was 
not  the  invention  of  a  rejected  playwright  to 
cover  the  non-appearance  of  a  play  which  no 
body  would  produce. 

"Isn't  it  always  a  mistake  to  write  a  play 
for  a  particular  star?"  I  suggested.  "Seems 
to  me  I've  read  somewhere  that  that  is  among 
the  besetting  sins  of  you  playwrights." 


THE  "TROOPS" 

"Old  stuff,  my  boy;  but  this  isn't  one  of 
those  cases.  The  person  I  had  in  mind  for 
this  play  wasn't  a  star,  but  a  beginner,  quite 
unknown.  It  was  when  I  was  in  London 
putting  on  'Fairy  Gold'  that  I  saw  her;  she 
had  a  small  part  in  a  pantomime,  and  panto 
mime  is  the  severest  test  of  an  actor's  powers, 
you  know.  A  little  later  she  appeared  in 
*  Honourable  Women,'  a  capital  play  that 
died  early,  but  there  again  I  felt  her  peculiar 
charm — it  was  just  that.  Her  part  was  a 
minor  one,  but  she  wore  it  as  she  might  wear 
a  glove;  she  was  exquisite !  No  one  ever  cap 
tured  my  imagination  as  she  did.  I  watched 
her  night  after  night.  I  was  afraid  that  when 
I  heard  her  voice  it  would  break  the  spell, 
and  I  actually  shook  like  a  man  with  an  ague 
when  she  tripped  out  on  the  stage  as  the  in 
genue  in  'Honourable  Women.'  And  her 
laughter!  You  know  how  hollow  the  usual 
stage  mirth  is,  but  that  girl's  laugh  had  the 
joy  of  the  lark  ascending!" 

"By  Jove!"  I  ejaculated,  "there's  more 
here  than  appears.  You're  in  love  with  the 
girl!" 

"Rubbish,"  he  cried  impatiently.    "You'll 

3 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

think  I'm  talking  rot,  but  this  girl  was  the 
visualization  of  a  character  I  had  dreamed  of 
and  groped  after  for  years.  That's  all;  but 
it's  a  whole  lot,  I  can  tell  you ! " 

"Of  course,  you  established  lines  of  com 
munication  and  gave  her  a  hint  that  you 
meant  to  write  a  play  for  her?" 

"Certainly  not!  That  would  have  spoiled 
the  whole  thing.  It  was  her  art,  not  the 
woman,  that  interested  me.  I  didn't  want 
to  take  the  chance  of  being  disillusioned.  I 
have  been  through  that  experience,  and  I  pre 
fer  not  to  meet  the  people  who  act  in  my 
pieces.  I  want  their  art,  not  their  views  on 
human  destiny  or  the  best  place  to  get  lobster 
a  la  Newburg." 

"Let  us  be  practical  for  a  moment,  Searles," 
I  urged.  "Emperors,  presidents,  and  popular 
murderers  are  not  more  conspicuous  than  the 
people  of  the  stage.  No  girl  talented  enough 
to  get  two  engagements,  even  for  small  parts, 
in  a  first-class  London  theatre  could  vanish. 
With  your  acquaintance  in  the  profession 
you'd  be  able  to  trace  her  anywhere  on  earth. 
By  the  way,  what  did  the  paragon  call  her 
self?" 


THE  "TROOPS" 

"Violet  Dewing  was  her  stage  name  and 
the  only  name  the  managers  knew  her  by.  I 
assumed  that,  of  course,  all  I  had  to  do  was  to 
finish  my  play  and  then  have  Dalton,  who 
represents  me  over  there,  make  an  appoint 
ment  to  read  it  to  her;  but  Dalton  worked  for 
three  months  trying  to  find  her,  without  suc 
cess.  She  clearly  wasn't  the  product  of  the 
provincial  theatres — hadn't  any  of  the  marks. 
I  wasn't  the  only  person  who  was  interested 
in  her.  Dalton  said  half  a  dozen  managers 
had  their  eye  on  her,  but  after  'Honourable 
Women '  closed  she  stepped  into  the  void.  I 
know  what  you're  thinking — that  the  other 
members  of  the  two  companies  she  appeared 
with  must  have  had  some  inkling  of  her  iden 
tity,  but  I  tell  you  Dalton  and  I  exhausted 
the  possibilities.  It  was  by  accident  that  she 
got  her  chance  in  the  pantomime — some  one 
wouldn't  do  at  the  last  minute,  and  they  gave 
Miss  Dewing  a  trial.  She  was  well  liked  by 
her  associates  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was 
a  bit  offish  and  vanished  from  their  world  the 
minute  the  curtain  fell." 

"A  clever  governess  out  of  a  job,  satisfying 
a  craving  for  excitement  and  playing  the  mys- 
5 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

terious  role  as  part  of  the  adventure.  Am  I 
to  assume  that  you've  burned  your  play  and 
that  the  incident  is  closed?" 

"Oh,  I  didn't  burn  it;  I  have  a  copy  locked 
in  a  safety  vault,  and  Dalton  left  one  heavily- 
sealed  at  a  small  exclusive  London  hotel 
where,  he  found  after  much  difficulty,  the 
girl  had  lodged  during  her  two  engagements." 

"You're  morbid,"  I  said.  "Show  me  her 
photograph." 

He  laughed  ironically.  "Never  a  chance, 
Singleton !  You  haven't  yet  got  the  idea  that 
this  young  woman  is  out  of  the  ordinary.  She 
refused  to  be  photographed — wrote  it  into 
her  two  contracts  that  this  was  not  to  be 
asked.  I  never  saw  her  off  the  stage,  and  I 
can't  give  you  a  description  of  her  that  would 
be  of  the  slightest  assistance  to  the  keenest 
detective  alive.  As  I've  tried  to  convey  to 
your  practical  mind,  it's  the  spirit  of  the  girl 
—the  spirit  of  comedy,  that  I've  dramatized— 
not  a  girl  you  take  out  to  supper  only  to  find 
that  she  has  no  wit,  no  charm,  no  anything 
but  a  monstrous  appetite  for  indigestible  food 
and  a  silly  ambition  to  play  roles  the  gods 
never  intended  her  to  play.  In  that  panto- 
6 


THE  "TROOPS" 

mime  she  was  a  frolic,  the  clown's  daughter, 
and,  though  nobody  saw  it,  she  was  the  whole 
piece,  the  elusive  sprite  that  could  evoke 
laughter  and  tears  by  a  gesture,  a  lifting  of 
the  brows,  a  grimace.  By  utterly  different 
methods  in  'Honourable  Women'  she  proved 
her  wide  range  of  appeal.  The  chap  who  pro 
duced  'Honourable  Women'  told  me  that 
after  the  first  rehearsal  Bayley,  the  author, 
begged  him  for  God's  sake  to  let  the  girl  do 
it  her  own  way,  so  as  not  to  lose  her  freshness 
and  spontaneity.  Hers  was  the  one  true  char 
acterization  in  the  piece.  When  Terry  was  in 
her  prime  you  remember  how  we  used  to  say 
that  only  one  bird  sang  like  that,  and  from 
paradise  it  flew?  Well,  this  bird  sings  on  the 
same  branch !  Her  voice  was  her  charm  made 
audible !  She's  the  most  natural  being  I  ever 
saw  on  the  stage,  and  she  can  look  more  com 
edy  than  anybody  else  I  ever  saw  act !" 

"Rave  some  more ! "  I  pleaded.  "  You  never 
talked  better  in  your  life." 

"Don't  be  an  ass,"  he  said  sourly.  "Let's 
forget  her  and  take  a  squint  at  your  affairs. 
Just  what  do  you  mean  to  do  with  your 
self?" 

7 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

"My  shoulder  still  creaks  a  little,  and  the 
doctors  advise  me  to  sit  around  for  a  while. 
They  offered  me  some  jobs  in  Washington,  but 
desk  work  and  inspection  duty  are  too  tame 
after  a  couple  of  years  spent  in  star  climbing. 
The  doctors  tell  me  to  cultivate  repose  for  a 
few  months  and  maybe  they'll  pass  me  into 
our  flying  corps,  but  they  don't  promise  any 
thing.  I'm  going  up  to  Barton-on-the-Sound 
and  I'll  camp  in  the  garage  on  my  uncle's 
place.  You  remember  that  I  built  the  thing 
myself,  and  the  quarters  are  good  enough  for 
a  busted  veteran." 

"Your  uncle  played  you  a  nasty  trick,"  in 
terrupted  Searles;  "getting  married  and  then 
adding  to  the  crime  by  dying.  You  couldn't 
beat  that  for  general  spitefulness." 

"Do  you  remember  the  immortal  lines: 

"  'Oh,  skip  your  dear  uncle ! ' 
The  Bellman  exclaimed 
As  he  angrily  tingled  his  bell "  ? 

"Oh,  I'm  not  knocking  the  dead  !"  he  pro 
tested.    "Mr.  Bashford  always  struck  me  as 
a  pretty  decent,  square  sort  of  chap,  and  not 
at  all  the  familiar  grouchy  uncle  of  fiction  and 
8 


THE  "TROOPS' 

the  cirama.  I  made  notes  on  him  from  time 
to  time  with  a  view  to  building  a  play  around 
him — the  perfect  uncle,  unobtrusive,  never 
blustering  at  his  nephew;  translating  the 
avuncular  relationship  into  something  remote 
and  chaste  like  a  distant  view  of  Mount  Wash 
ington  in  winter.  As  I  recall,  there  were  only 
two  great  passions  in  your  uncle's  life — Jap 
anese  art  and  green-turtle  soup.  It  was  just 
like  him  to  retire  from  business  on  his  sixtieth 
birthday  and  depart  for  the  Orient,  there  to 
commit  the  shameless  indiscretion  of  matri 
mony." 

"Like  him!  It  was  the  greatest  shock  of 
my  life.  To  the  best  of  my  knowledge  he 
never  knew  any  women  except  the  widow  of 
his  partner  in  the  importing  house.  He  used 
to  dine  with  her  now  and  then,  and  I  caught 
him  once  sending  her  flowers  at  Easter — prob 
ably  an  annual  stunt.  She  was  about  eighty 
and  perfectly  safe.  He  spent  twenty  years  in 
the  Tyringham,  the  dullest  and  most  respect 
able  hotel  in  the  world,  and  his  chief  recrea 
tion  was  a  leisurely  walk  in  the  park  before 
going  to  bed.  You  could  set  your  clock  by 
him.  Pretty  thin  picking  for  a  dramatist,  I 
9 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

should  think.  He  used  to  take  me  to  the  thea 
tre  regularly  every  other  Thursday — it  was 
a  date — and  his  favorite  entertainment  was 
vaudeville  with  black-face  embellishment  pre 
ferred.  You  should  add  that  to  Japanese  pot 
tery  and  potage  a  la  tortue.  He  joined  the 
yacht  club  just  because  the  green  turtle  at 
that  joint  is  the  best  in  New  York.  Yachts ! 
He  never  sailed  in  anything  but  the  biggest 
steamers,  and  got  no  fun  out  of  that.  I  crossed 
with  him  twice,  and  he  never  left  his  bunk. 
But  in  his  shy  fashion  he  was  kind  and  gener 
ous  and  mighty  good  to  me." 

"If  you  hadn't  gone  to  war,  but  had  kept 
right  at  his  elbow,  the  marriage  might  have 
been  averted,"  suggested  Searles.  "He  did 
leave  you  something,  didn't  he?" 

"Fifty  thousand  cash  and  the  right  to  use 
the  garage  at  the  Barton  farm.  Calling  it  a 
farm  is  a  joke;  it's  rocks  mostly.  He  bought 
the  house  to  have  a  place  to  store  his  prints 
and  ceramics.  He  hated  motoring  except  in 
taxis  up  and  down  town,  and  when  I  urged 
him  to  set  up  a  machine,  he  told  me  to  go 
ahead  and  buy  one  and  build  the  garage.  He 
rather  sniffed  at  the  writing  I  do,  but  told  me 
10 


THE  "TROOPS" 

I'd  better  fix  up  a  studio  in  the  garage  and 
have  it  as  a  place  to  work  in.  His  will  pro 
vides  that  I  may  lodge  in  the  garage  for  life." 

"The  estate  footed  a  million,  as  I  remem 
ber,  so  I  can't  praise  his  generosity.  But  the 
widow,  your  unknown  auntie,  the  body- 
snatcher  who  annexed  the  old  boy — what  of 
her?" 

"I've  asked  the  trust  company  people 
whether  she's  in  sight  anywhere,  and  they  as 
sure  me  that  she  is  not  on  these  shores.  Tor- 
rence,  the  third  vice-president — you  know 
Torry;  he  was  in  the  class  ahead  of  us  at  col 
lege,  the  man  who  never  smiles — Torry  seemed 
anxious  to  learn  about  her  from  me,  which  is 
certainly  droll.  He  said  she  acknowledged  her 
last  remittance  three  months  ago  from  Bang 
kok — wherever  that  is.  Torry  couldn't  see 
that  Bangkok  is  so  absurdly  remote  that  the 
idea  of  a  widow's  strolling  off  there  is  funny. 
I  suppose  the  old  girl's  resumed  her  tour  of 
the  world  looking  for  another  retired  mer 
chant  to  add  to  her  list." 

"Very  likely.  To  what  nation,  tribe,  or 
human  group  does  this  predatory  person  be 
long?" 

ii 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

"I'll  tell  you  all  I  know.  Just  as  I  was 
sailing  for  France  I  got  a  letter  from  Uncle 
Bash  stating  in  the  most  businesslike  fashion 
that  he  was  about  to  be  married  to  a  lady  he 
had  met  on  his  trip  out  to  Japan.  The  dire 
event  was  to  occur  at  the  American  Embassy 
the  following  day.  From  which  I  judged  that 
my  presence  at  the  ceremony  was  neither  ex 
pected  nor  desired.  Oddly  enough,  months  af 
terward,  I  picked  up  an  English  paper  in  a 
French  inn  that  contained  an  announcement 
of  the  marriage  in  the  usual  advertisement 
form.  The  lady  was  succinctly  described  as 
Mrs.  Alice  Wellington  Cornford,  widow  of  the 
late  Archibald  Reynolds  Cornford,  Pepperhar- 
row  Road,  Hants.  All  Torrence  knows  of  the 
subsequent  proceedings  is  what  he  got  in  of 
ficial  reports  of  Uncle  Bash's  death  from  the 
consul-general  at  Tokyo.  He  was  buried  over 
there  and  the  life-insurance  companies  were 
rather  fussy  about  the  legal  proof,  Torry 
says.  Whether  the  widow  expects  to  come  to 
America  ultimately  or  will  keep  moving 
through  the  Orient  marrying  husbands  and 
burying  them  is  a  dark  mystery.  If  she 
should  turn  up,  the  house  at  Barton  is  hers, 
12 


THE  "TROOPS" 

of  course,  but  with  her  roving  disposition  I 
fancy  my  aunt  Alice  wouldn't  like  the  place. 
The  Jap  stuff  is  worth  a  bit  of  money,  and  if 
the  lady  is  keen  for  such  things  and  not  a 
mere  adventuress  she  may  take  it  into  her 
head  one  of  these  days  to  come  over  and  in 
spect  the  loot." 

"I  can  see  the  vampire,"  said  Searles  mus 
ingly,  "landing  at  the  Grand  Central  with 
enough  hand-luggage  to  fill  a  freight-car;  a  big, 
raw-boned  creature,  with  a  horse  face  and  a 
horrible  mess  as  to  clothes.  You  will  be  there 
to  meet  her,  deferential,  anxious  to  please. 
You  will  pilot  her  up  the  coast  to  Barton,  tip 
the  servants  heavily  to  keep  them  from  mur 
dering  her,  and  twiddle  your  thumbs  in  your 
garage  as  you  await  her  further  pleasure.  By 
the  way,  are  those  ancient  freaks  still  on  the 
place — those  broken-down  hotel  employees 
who  were  your  uncle's  sole  experiment  in 
philanthropy?" 

"Torrence  assures  me  that  they  are  all  very 
much  there." 

Searles  yielded  himself  to  laughter.  "An 
Englishwoman  with  lofty  ideas  of  domestic 
service  would  certainly  enjoy  a  romp  with 
13 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

that  crew.   I  supposed  the  trust  company  had 
brushed  them  into  the  Sound  before  this." 

"Oh,  they  are  in  the  same  class  with  me,"  I 
explained.  "The  place  can't  be  sold  till  I  die, 
and  while  I  live  they're  to  be  harbored — about 
thirty  of  them — clothed  and  victualled." 

"I  think  there's  a  farce  in  the  idea,  and  I 
may  try  it  one  of  these  days,"  he  said,  scrib 
bling  in  his  note-book.  "A  refuge  for  broken- 
down  chambermaids,  venerable  bell-hops 
grown  gray  in  the  service,  and  the  head  waiter 
who  amassed  a  fortune  in  tips  and  then  toyed 
with  the  market  once  too  often  and  lost  his 
ill-gotten  gains.  What  was  the  head  waiter's 
name  who  presided  with  so  much  stateliness 
in  the  dining-room  of  the  Tyringham?  I 
mean  the  white-haired  chap  who  was  so  par 
ticular  about  the  foot-cushions  for  the  nice  old 
ladies  in  caps  and  lavender  ribbons  and  India 
shawls — I  think  I  can  work  him  in  some 
where." 

"That's  Antoine,  who  married  the  assistant 
housekeeper  at  the  Tyringham.  He's  the  but 
ler  and  has  charge  of  the  place — a  sort  of 
commander-in-chief  of  the  outfit.  When  I  get 
settled  I'll  ask  you  up  and  you  can  study  the 
bunch  at  leisure." 

14 


THE  "TROOPS" 

"Splendid!  Reserve  one  room  for  me  on 
the  sunny  side  of  the  garage  and  I'll  be  up  in 
a  couple  of  weeks.  I'm  going  to  Ohio  to 
morrow  for  a  family  reunion  and  a  look  at  the 
loved  spots  my  infancy  knew." 

"You're  lucky  to  have  home-folks  even  in 
Ohio,"  I  remarked  enviously. 

"Well,  there's  always  your  distant  auntie, 
cruising  the  seven  seas  in  pursuit  of  husbands. 
Nobody  with  an  aunt  to  his  credit  can  pre 
tend  to  be  alone  in  the  world.  There  is 
something  about  an  aunt,  Singleton !  Aunts 
must  rank  just  a  little  below  mothers  in  the 
heavenly  kingdom.  When  I  was  a  boy  out  in 
Ohio  there  were  two  great  occasions  every 
year  in  my  life — one  when  I  went  to  visit  a 
grand  old  aunt  I  had  in  the  country,  the  other 
when  she  visited  us,  arriving  with  a  wagon- 
load  of  jam,  jelly,  salt-rising  bread,  pound 
cake,  and  other  unpurchasable  manna." 

"Stop!  or  I'll  call  the  food  censor,"  I 
pleaded,  picking  up  my  hat.  "Send  me  your 
copy  of  'Lady  Geranium/  and  I'll  tell  you 
whether  it's  a  classic  or  not." 

"  'Lady  Larkspur/  "  he  corrected  with  a 
shudder.  "You  shall  have  it  by  trusted  mes 
senger  to-morrow." 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

I  wired  Antoine  that  I  would  reach  Bar- 
ton-on-the-Sound  the  following  day.  This 
was  September,  1917.  The  former  servants  of 
the  Tyringham  were  established  on  the  place 
by  my  uncle  the  year  before  he  dropped  busi 
ness  cares  and  departed  for  the  Japan  of  his 
dreams,  and  as  I  had  been  often  at  the  hotel 
where  he  spent  so  many  of  the  years  of  his  life, 
I  knew  most  of  the  old  retainers.  They  were 
deeply  appreciative  of  his  kindness,  and  when 
I  had  gone  to  the  farm  for  an  uninterrupted 
month  in  finishing  some  piece  of  writing  they 
had  shown  me  the  greatest  consideration. 

As  the  train  rolled  along  the  familiar  shore 
toward  Barton  I  shook  of?  the  depression  oc 
casioned  by  my  enforced  retirement  from  the 
great  struggle  overseas.  I  had  done  under  the 
French  flag  all  that  it  was  possible  for  me  to 
do;  and  there  was  some  consolation  in  the 
fact  that  by  reason  of  my  two  years  on  the 
battle-line  I  was  just  so  much  ahead  of  the 
friends  I  met  in  New  York  who  were  answer 
ing  the  call  to  the  colors  and  had  their  experi 
ence  of  war  all  before  them.  The  tranquil  life 
that  had  been  recommended  by  the  doctors 
was  not  only  possible  at  Barton,  but  it  was 
16 


THE  "TROOPS" 

the  only  life  that  could  be  lived  there.  Plenty 
of  exercise  in  the  open  and  regular  habits 
would,  I  had  been  assured,  set  me  up  again, 
and  my  leisure  I  meant  to  employ  in  begin 
ning  a  novel  that  had  been  teasing  me  ever 
since  I  sailed  for  home. 

Of  my  uncle  Bash  I  had  only  the  happiest 
and  most  grateful  memories.  Quite  naturally 
it  had  occurred  to  me  at  tunes,  and  my  friends 
had  encouraged  the  idea,  that  my  uncle  would 
die  some  day  and  leave  me  his  money.  There 
was  no  particular  reason  why  he  should  do 
so,  as  he  had  never  manifested  any  unusual 
affection  for  me  and  I  had  certainly  never 
done  anything  for  him. 

Antoine  was  at  the  Barton  station  with  the 
touring-car  Uncle  Bash  had  bought  to  estab 
lish  communication  with  the  village.  Flynn, 
the  big  Irishman  who  had  been  the  doorman 
at  the  Tyringham  for  years  and  retired  because 
of  rheumatism  acquired  from  long  exposure  to 
the  elements  at  the  hostelry's  portals,  was  at 
the  wheel. 

Antoine  greeted  me  with  that  air  of  lofty 
condescension  tempered  with  a  sincere  kindli 
ness  that  had  made  him  a  prince  among  head 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

waiters.  As  I  shook  hands  with  him  his  lips 
quivered  and  tears  came  to  his  eyes.  Flynn, 
standing  beside  the  car,  saluted  with  a  wel 
coming  grin. 

"Very  glad  to  see  you,  sorr.  The  trunk 
came  this  mornin'  all  right,  sorr,  and  we  put 
it  in  your  room." 

I  bade  Antoine  join  me  in  the  back  seat 
that  he  might  the  more  easily  bring  me  up  to 
date  as  to  affairs  on  the  estate. 

"It  must  be  a  little  slow  up  here  after  the 
years  you  lived  in  town,"  I  suggested,  "but 
of  course  you're  all  old  friends." 

"Well,  yes;  all  friends,"  he  acquiesced,  but 
with  so  little  enthusiasm  that  I  glanced  at 
him  quickly.  He  pretended  to  be  absorbed  in 
the  flying  landscape  at  the  moment.  Flynn,  I 
noticed,  was  giving  ear  to  our  conversation 
from  the  wheel. 

"It  was  sad,  very  sad,  Mr.  Bashford  pass 
ing  away  so  far  from  home,  sir.  It  was  a  great 
shock.  And  he  had  looked  forward  for  years 
to  a  quiet  life  abroad.  It  must  have  been  ten 
years  ago  he  first  mentioned  his  hope  of  re 
tiring  to  Japan." 

Uncle  Bash  had  given  me  no  such  forecast 
18 


THE  "TROOPS" 

of  his  intentions,  and  I  felt  humble  before 
this  proof  of  Antoine's  greater  intimacy. 
Once  at  the  beginning  of  our  acquaintance, 
when  I  had  complimented  Antoine  on  his 
English,  he  explained  that  he  was  born  in 
England  of  French  parents.  His  father  had 
been  chef  and  his  mother  housekeeper  for  an 
American  banker  who  lived  for  many  years  in 
London.  Antoine's  speech  was  that  of  a 
well-trained  English  upper  servant,  and  I  im 
agined  that  in  his  youth  he  had  taken  some 
English  butler  as  his  model.  He  used  to  pre 
tend  that  he  knew  French  very  imperfectly, 
and  I  was  surprised  when  he  now  addressed 
me  quite  fluently  in  that  language. 

"You  have  been  with  the  armies  of  dear 
France,"  he  remarked.  "The  war  is  very 
dreadful.  My  parents  were  of  Verdun;  it 
grieves  me  to  know  of  the  suffering  in  the  land 
of  my  people." 

As  I  replied  sympathetically  in  French  I 
saw  Flynn  straighten  himself  at  the  wheel 
with  an  impatient  fling  of  his  head.  Antoine 
indicated  him  with  a  contemptuous  nod: 
"Married  Elsie,  the  German  woman  who 
worked  in  the  linen-room  at  the  Tyringharn ! 
19 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

This  has  caused  some  trouble,  and  there  is  a 
pantry  girl,  Gretchen,  who  was  ill  a  long  time 
before  the  master  left,  and  he  sent  her  here 
for  the  country  air.  She  is  a  little  devil  with 
her  dear  Fatherland." 

I  laughed  at  the  old  fellow's  gravity  and 
earnestness.  That  the  war  should  be  making 
itself  felt  on  the  quiet  acres  at  Barton-on-the- 
Sound  was  absurd. 

"But  there  can  be  no  trouble;  everything 
is  peaceful,  of  course,  save  for  a  little  foolish 
talk " 

The  Gaul  asserted  itself  in  a  shrug,  a 
form  of  expression  rare  in  him.  I  was  pon 
dering  the  recrudescence  of  race  hatreds 
due  to  the  upheaval  in  Europe  when  he 
startled  me  by  a  statement  uttered  close  to 
my  ear: 

"There  have  been  inquiries  for  the  widow; 
these  have  caused  me  much  anxiety." 

"  Widow !    Whose  widow  ?  " 

"Madame,  the  widow  of  the  dear  master. 
It  seems  that  there  are  persons  anxious  to  see 
her.  There  have  been  inquiries,  one — two- 
three  times." 

"Probably  some  of  her  American  friends 

20 


THE  "TROOPS" 

anxious  to  pay  their  respects,  or  some  of  the 
neighbors  making  calls  of  courtesy,"  I  sug 
gested. 

"A  foreign  gentleman  who  acts  very  queer- 
ly,"  Antoine  persisted. 

My  uncle's  widow  was  a  vague,  unknown 
being  whom  I  had  never  expected  to  cross 
my  horizons.  If  she  meditated  a  descent 
upon  Barton-on-the-Sound,  the  trust  com 
pany  would  certainly  have  had  some  hint  of 
her  approach,  but  Torrence  clearly  had  had 
no  tidings  of  her  beyond  her  last  communica 
tion  from  Bangkok.  Still,  it  was  wholly 
possible  that  a  globe-trotting  widow  would 
have  friends  in  many  parts  of  the  world,  and 
I  could  see  nothing  disturbing  in  the  fact  that 
inquiries  had  been  made  for  her.  I  said  as 
much.  Antoine's  answer  was  another  shrug 
and  a  jerk  of  his  head  toward  Flynn,  as  though 
even  the  employment  of  an  alien  tongue 
might  not  conceal  our  conversation  from  the 
big  Irishman.  Antoine  was  manifestly  im 
patient  at  my  refusal  to  be  aroused  by  his 
hints  of  discord  among  his  associates  and  my 
lack  of  interest  in  the  inquiries  for  Mrs.  Bash- 
ford.  When  we  had  reached  the  farm  and 

21 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

were  running  through  the  grounds  Antoine 
spoke  again: 

"We  thought  we  would  put  you  up  at  the 
house,  Mr.  Singleton,  and  not  in  the  garage," 
he  said  inquiringly. 

"Not  at  all,  Antoine,"  I  answered  quickly. 
"We  must  stick  close  to  the  law  in  such  mat 
ters." 

"Very  good,  sir.  Stop  at  the  garage, 
Flynn." 

To  the  casual  observer  the  garage  was  a 
charming  two-story  house  following  the  gen 
eral  lines  of  the  plaster  and  timber  residence, 
from  which  it  was  separated  by  a  strip  of 
woodland  and  a  formal  garden.  The  garage 
and  quarters  for  the  chauffeur  were  at  one  end 
and  at  the  other  were  a  down-stairs  living- 
room,  with  a  broad  fireplace,  and  three  cham 
bers  above  so  planned  as  to  afford  a  charming 
view  of  the  Sound,  whose  shore  curved  in 
deeply  at  this  point.  On  the  chauffeur's  side 
was  a  small  kitchen  from  which  I  had  been 
served  with  my  meals  when  I  lodged  there. 
This  thoroughly  convenient  establishment 
was  the  only  place  I  could  call  home,  and  I 
experienced  a  pleasurable  sense  of  comfort 
22 


THE  "TROOPS" 

as  I  opened  the  door  into  the  snug  living- 
room. 

"The  house  is  in  order.  You  will  have  your 
meals  at  the  residence,  I  suppose,  sir,"  An- 
toine  suggested. 

I  debated  this  a  moment,  and  when  he 
hinted  that  dinner  could  be  more  conveniently 
served  there  than  in  my  own  quarters,  I  said 
that  for  the  present  the  Flynns  might  give 
me  breakfast  and  luncheon  at  the  garage,  but 
that  I  would  dine  at  the  house.  The  original 
owner  of  the  property,  from  whose  executor 
my  uncle  had  purchased  it  with  all  its  belong 
ings,  had  accumulated  a  remarkable  library, 
rich  in  the  Elizabethan  stuff  for  which  I  have 
a  weakness,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  it 
would  be  pleasant  to  eat  my  solitary  dinner  at 
the  residence  and  loaf  in  the  library  for  an 
hour  afterward.  Like  most  slaves  of  the  ink 
pot,  I  habitually  postpone  actual  labor  as 
long  as  possible,  and  if  I  were  to  dine  at  the 
garage  I  should  have  no  excuse  for  not  plung 
ing  at  once  into  my  novel.  The  Tyringham 
people  were  domiciled  in  cottages  scattered 
over  the  estate,  though  a  full  staff  of  house 
servants  was  established  in  the  residence. 
23 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

It  was  five  o'clock  when  I  reached  the  gar 
age,  and  Antoine  left  me  after  opening  my 
bags  with  the  suggestion  that  I  could  summon 
Zimmerman,  a  former  valet  of  the  Tyring- 
ham,  for  any  service  I  might  require.  I  knew 
Zimmerman  very  well  and  said  I  would  call 
him  when  occasion  required. 

"He  is  of  that  race,"  said  Antoine  plainr 
tively  in  the  French  which  now  seemed  to 
come  readily  enough  to  his  lips. 

"Race?  Botheration !  You  mustn't  trouble 
yourself  about  race  questions  out  here,  An 
toine.  Zimmerman  is  a  good  old  chap,  who's 
probably  forgotten  the  very  name  of  the 
German  town  he  was  born  in." 

"They  do  not  forget,"  Antoine  replied  with 
emphasis.  "There  has  been  much  discussion 
— much— 

"Forget  it,  Antoine !  I  supposed  you  were 
all  living  here  like  a  happy  family.  You've 
been  sticking  too  close  to  the  farm,  and  it 
would  do  you  good  to  run  into  town  for  a 
week.  Please  tell  them  at  the  residence  that 
I'll  dine  at  seven." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  he  said  in  his  pompous 
Tyringham  manner,  but  I  saw  that  he  was 
miffed  by  my  indifference. 
24 


THE  "TROOPS" 

Flynn,  having  disposed  of  the  car,  came  to 
ask  if  there  was  anything  he  could  do  for  me. 
When  I  had  explained  my  arrangement  with 
Antoine  he  still  lingered. 

"Tony's  against  the  wife  and  me,"  he  said 
mournfully.  "It's  the  war,  sorr,  and  she  and 
me  that  Hie,  sorr,  the  American  flag  floats 
from  the  garage  every  day.  And  if  a  heart  can 
be  lile,  Elsie's  as  true  to  America  as  though 
she  was  born  in  Boston  State-house." 

"I  believe  you,  Flynn,"  I  said,  touched  by 
his  earnestness.  "Don't  you  worry  about 
Antoine  and  the  rest  of  them;  they're  just  a 
little  nervous;  I'll  see  what  I  can  do  to 
straighten  things  out." 

As  I  went  about  my  unpacking  I  was  sorry 
that  I  had  discouraged  Antoine's  confidences. 
That  these  old  hotel  servants,  flung  upon  a 
farm  with  little  to  do,  should  fall  to  quarrelling 
was  not  surprising,  but  what  he  had  said  as  to 
the  inquiries  for  Mrs.  Bashford  had  roused 
my  curiosity.  In  spite  of  my  legal  right  to 
live  on  the  farm,  I  had  no  intention  of  remain 
ing  if  my  uncle's  widow  turned  up.  Alone  on 
the  estate  I  could  lodge  in  the  garage  without 
any  loss  of  dignity,  but  with  an  aunt  on  the 
premises  my  status  would  be  decidedly  un- 
25 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

comfortable.  She  could  hardly  fail  to  regard 
me  as  an  intruding  poor  relation,  no  matter 
how  strictly  I  kept  to  my  own  quarters.  It 
was  possible  that  she  might  even  confuse  me 
with  the  veterans  of  the  Tyringham,  and, 
while  I  am  no  snob,  I  did  not  relish  the  idea  of 
being  classed  by  a  strange  aunt  with  a  crowd 
of  broken-down  hotel  employees. 

I  whistled  myself  into  good  humor  as  I 
dressed  and  started  for  the  house  along  the 
driveway,  which  followed  the  shore,  veering 
off  for  a  look  at  the  sunken  garden,  one  of  the 
few  features  of  the  place  that  had  ever  inter 
ested  my  uncle. 

As  I  paused  on  the  steps  I  caught  sight  of  a 
man  sitting  dejectedly  on  a  stone  bench  near 
a  fountain  whose  jet  tossed  and  caught  a  ball 
with  languid  iteration.  I  had  identified  him 
as  an  old  Tyringham  bell-hop,  known  famil 
iarly  as  Dutch,  before  he  heard  my  step  and 
sprang  to  his  feet,  grabbing  a  pitchfork  whose 
prongs  he  presented  threateningly. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  sir,"  he  faltered,  dropping 
the  implement.  "  Excuse  me,  sir ! " 

"  What's  your  trouble,  Dutch  ?   You're  not 
expecting  burglars,  are  you  ?  " 
26 


THE  "TROOPS" 

"Well,  no,  sir,  but  things  on  the  place 
ain't  what  they  wuz.  It's  my  name,  which 
ain't  my  name,  not  reg'lar,  that's  caused  feel- 
in'.  They've  drove  me  out,  an'  I'm  campin' 
in  the  tool-house.  An'  me  born  right  there  in 
New  York  an'  American  clean  through.  My 
grandpap  came  across  when  he  wuz  a  kid,  but 
it  ain't  my  fault  he  wuz  Goiman.  I'd  V  made 
'im  a  Frenchy  or  a  Dago  or  somethin'  else  if  I 
could  'a'  done  it.  Mr.  Singleton,  I  don't  know 
no  Goiman  except  pretzel,  sauerkraut,  wiener 
wurst,  and  them  kind  o'  woids." 

"Those  belong  to  the  universal  language, 
Dutch,"  I  answered  consolingly.  "What  is 
your  name,  anyhow?" 

"Augustus  Schortemeier,  and  I  say  it  ain't 
no  worse'n  Longfellow,"  he  protested. 

The  point  was  delicate  and  not  one  that  I 
felt  myself  qualified  to  discuss.  To  cover  my 
confusion  I  suggested  that  poets  enjoy  a  cer 
tain  license,  but  I  was  honestly  sorry  for 
Dutch.  If  he  was  not  the  oldest  living  bell 
hop,  he  was  at  least  entitled  to  honorable 
mention  among  the  most  ancient  veterans  of 
the  calling,  vocation,  or  avocation  of  the  bell- 
hopper.  I  bade  him  cheer  up  and  passed  on. 
27 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

As  I  reached  the  house  I  heard  a  sharp 
command  in  an  authoritative  voice  and  saw  at 
a  curve  of  the  driveway  a  number  of  men  in 
military  formation  performing  evolutions  in 
the  most  sprightly  manner.  They  carried 
broomsticks,  and  at  sight  of  me  the  com 
mander  brought  his  company  to  a  very  ragged 
"Present  arms !"  Their  uniform  was  that  of 
the  Tyringham  bell-hops  and  waiters,  and  it 
dawned  upon  me  that  this  was  an  army  of 
protest  representing  the  Allied  armies  on  the 
shores  of  Connecticut.  There  was  a  dozen  of 
them,  and  the  captain  I  recognized  as  Scotty, 
a  hop  who  had  long  worn  the  Tyringham  liv 
ery.  I  waved  my  hand  to  them  and  turned  to 
find  Antoine  awaiting  me  at  the  door. 

"It's  the  troops,  sir,"  he  explained.  "It's 
to  keep  Dutch  and  Gretchen  and  Elsie — she's 
the  wife  of  that  Flynn — in  proper  order,  sir." 

"Troops"  was  a  large  term  for  the  awkward 
squad  of  retired  waiters  and  bell-hops,  and  it 
was  with  difficulty  that  I  kept  my  face 
straight. 

"It's  most  unfortunate,  but  we  was  forced 
to  it.  Dinner  is  served,  sir." 

From  the  table  in  the  long  dining-room  I 
28 


THE  "TROOPS" 

caught  glimpses  through  the  gathering  dusk 
of  Scotty's  battalion  at  its  evolutions. 

"They  keep  a  guard  all  night,  sir,"  Antoine 
explained,  not  without  pride.  "The  goings 
on  has  been  most  peculiar." 

"Antoine!"  I  said  sharp'ly,  "what  do  you 
mean  by  these  hints  of  trouble  on  the  place? 
You're  not  silly  enough  to  imagine  that  Dutch 
and  a  couple  of  women  can  do  anything  out 
here  to  aid  America's  enemies !  The  rest  of 
you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves  for 
annoying  them.  And  as  for  these  inquiries 
about  Mrs.  Bashford,  they  couldn't  possibly 
have  anything  to  do  with  the  war.  Specifi 
cally,  who  are  the  persons  who've  asked  for 
her?" 

"There's  the  party  I  told  you  about,  most 
persistent,  who's  motored  here  three  times, 
and  another  person  who  seems  to  be  looking 
for  him,  sir.  It's  most  singular." 

"It's  singularly  ridiculous;  that's  all. 
They're  probably  piano-tuners  or  rival  agents 
for  a  rug  house  or  something  of  that  sort  who 
don't  know  that  Mrs.  Bashford  isn't  here  or 
at  all  likely  to  be." 

"They  may  be  agents,  but  not  that  kind, 
29 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

sir."  His  lips  quivered,  either  from  fear  or 
vexation  at  my  refusal  to  take  his  story  seri 
ously. 

"If  anything  tangible  happens,  Antoine,"  I 
said  kindly,  "anything  we  can  really  put  our 
hands  on,  we'll  certainly  deal  with  it.  But 
you  mustn't  get  nervous  or  allow  yourself  to 
suspect  everybody  who  turns  up  here  of  evil 
designs  against  the  Republic.  I've  come  here 
for  quiet,  you  know,  and  we  can't  have  every 
passing  stranger  throwing  the  place  into  a 
panic." 

I  had  no  sooner  reached  the  library,  where 
he  gave  me  coffee,  than  I  heard  a  slow,  mea 
sured  tread  on  the  broad  brick  terrace  that  ran 
along  the  house  on  the  side  toward  the  Sound. 
The  windows  were  open  and  the  guard  was 
in  plain  view.  I  glanced  at  Antoine,  whose 
attitude  toward  me  was  that  of  one  benevo 
lently  tolerant  of  stupidity.  He  meant  to 
save  me  in  spite  of  my  obtuseness.  "Tell  the 
picket  to  remove  himself  where  I  won't  hear 
him,  if  you  please,  Antoine." 

He  disappeared  through  one  of  the  French 
windows  and  in  a  moment  I  saw  the  guard 
patrolling  a  walk  some  distance  from  the 
30 


THE  "TROOPS" 

house.  I  now  made  myself  comfortable  with 
a  book  and  a  cigar,  but  I  had  hardly  settled 
myself  for  a  quiet  hour  before  I  heard  a  com 
motion  from  the  direction  of  the  gate,  fol 
lowed  a  few  minutes  later  by  a  shout  and  a 
noisy  colloquy,  after  which  a  roadster  ar 
rived  in  haste  at  the  front  door. 

"Mr.  Torrence,  sir,"  announced  Antoine. 
"I'm  sorry,  sir,  but  he  ran  by  the  guard  at 
the  gate,  and  our  man  below  the  house 
stopped  him.  It's  a  precaution  we've  been 
taking,  sir." 

Torrence's  sense  of  humor  was  always  a 
little  feeble,  and  I  hastened  into  the  hall  to 
reassure  him  as  to  his  welcome.  He  was  wip 
ing  the  perspiration  from  his  face  and  swearing 
under  his  breath. 

"For  God's  sake,  Singleton,  what's  hap 
pened  here?  A  band  of  pirates  jumped  on 
my  running-board,  and  after  I'd  knocked  them 
off  a  road-agent  stopped  me  right  there  in 
sight  of  the  house  and  poked  the  muzzle 
of  a  shotgun  in  my  face." 

"Mighty  sorry  you  were  annoyed,  but 
there  have  been  some  queer  characters  about, 
tramps  and  that  sort  of  thing,  and  the  people 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

on  the  place  are  merely  a  little  anxious.  Have 
a  cigar?" 

"All  I  can  say  is  that  you'd  better  send 
your  friends  the  password!  That  fool  out 
there  with  the  gun 

"Only  a  bell-hop,  nothing  more,"  I  inter 
rupted. 

" — That  fool,  I  say,  is  likely  to  kill  some 
body.  Antoine" — he  turned  to  the  butler, 
who  was  drawing  the  curtains  at  the  windows 
—"if  the  property's  been  threatened,  you 
should  have  informed  me  immediately." 

"Yes,  sir;  but  it's  only  been  quite  recent, 
and,  knowing  Mr.  Singleton  was  coming,  we 
didn't  like  to  bother  you." 

"We  can  only  apologize,  Torry,"  I  inter 
posed.  "The  employees  have  been  alarmed, 
but  we're  bound  to  commend  their  zeal." 

"Humph!"  he  ejaculated,  the  wounds  to 
his  dignity  still  rankling. 

I  forced  a  cigar  upon  him  and  talked  of  the 
weather  to  cover  Antoine's  retreat.  I  re 
solved  not  to  tell  him  the  real  cause  of  the 
servant's  apprehensions,  knowing  his  dis 
position  to  magnify  trifles  and  fearing  he  might 
send  the  police  to  investigate.  He  lived  only 
32 


THE  "TROOPS" 

five  miles  from  Barton,  a  fact  to  which  he 
now  referred. 

"Hadn't  heard  of  any  tramps  over  my 
way,"  he  said,  frowning.  "These  old  lunatics 
your  uncle  left  here  are  simply  hipped;  that's 
all.  Mr.  Bashford  made  a  mistake  in  turning 
the  place  over  to  them;  it  was  silly,  down 
right  silly.  It's  a  wonder  you  didn't  think  of 
upsetting  his  will  on  the  ground  of  mental  un- 
soundness.  It's  not  up  to  me  to  suggest  such 
a  thing,  but  I  believe  you  could  knock  it 
out!" 

"Oh,  chuck  it !  They're  well-meaning  help 
less  people,  and  it's  bully  that  Uncle  Bash 
provided  a  home  for  them.  There's  nobody 
else  to  use  the  place." 

His  cigar  had  proved  soothing,  but  my  last 
remark  caused  him  to  sit  up  straight  in  his 
chair. 

"By  George !  my  hold-up  almost  made  me 
forget  what  I  came  for.  I  have  news  for  you, 
Singleton;  good  or  bad,  as  you  may  take  it; 
Mrs.  Bashford  is  in  America." 

"Mrs.  Bashford,"  I  repeated  faintly, 
"where  do  you  get  these  pleasant  tidings?" 

"This,"  he  answered,  producing  a  tele- 
33 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

gram,  "is  all  I  know  about  it.  Got  it  just  as 
I  was  leaving  the  office  this  afternoon,  and 
thought  I'd  motor  over  and  give  you  a  pleas 
ant  surprise." 

He  seemed  to  enjoy  my  discomfiture.  The 
message  read: 

"PITTSFIELD,  MASS.,  Sept.  20. 

"J.  B.  TORRENCE," 

Bainbridge  Trust  Co.,  New  York. 
Landed  at  Seattle  a  week  ago,  and  have 
been  motoring  east  from  Chicago  to  see  the 
country.  Will  reach  Barton  in  four  or  five 
days.  Please  wire  me  at  the  Washington  Inn, 
Lenox,  whether  house  is  in  order  for  occu 
pancy. 

"ALICE  BASHFORD." 

"Well,  what  do  you  say  to  that?"  he  de 
manded. 

"I  say  it's  taking  unfair  advantage,"  I  an 
swered  savagely.  "I've  got  to  clear  out; 
that's  the  first  thing." 

"  Not  necessarily.  Your  right  to  the  garage 
is  settled;  she  couldn't  oust  you  if  she  wanted 
to.  You've  got  to  stay  here  anyhow  till  she 
34 


THE  "TROOPS" 

comes;  there's  no  ducking  that.  The  widow 
of  an  uncle  who  did  a  lot  for  you,  a  stranger  to 
the  country;  it's  up  to  you  to  see  her  estab 
lished.  There  are  many  little  courtesies  she 
would  naturally  expect  from  you." 

"I'm  delighted  that  you  see  my  duty  so 
clearly!  If  you  hadn't  assured  me  that  she 
was  safe  at  the  end  of  the  world  I  wouldn't 
have  set  foot  here." 

"The  house  is  in  order,  I  judge,"  he  re 
marked,  glancing  about  the  room.  "I've  got 
to  wire  her  that  we're  ready  for  her." 

"  You  most  certainly  have !  Your  duty  is  as 
plain  as  a  smoke-stack.  You  might  add  that 
she's  causing  serious  inconvenience  to  her  late 
husband's  only  nephew." 

"You  really  don't  mean  that?"  he  inquired 
anxiously. 

"Oh,  thunder,  no!" 

I  had  forgotten  how  trying  Torrence  could 
be.  He  now  suggested  that  we  summon  An- 
toinc  and  take  a  look  at  the  house.  Torrence 
is  a  conscientious  fellow  with  an  exact  and 
orderly  mind,  and  there  was  no  corner  of  the 
place  from  cellar  to  garret  that  we  didn't  ex 
plore.  It  was  highly  creditable  to  the  old 
35 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

Tyringham  servants  that  the  house  was 
thoroughly  habitable.  All  that  need  be  done 
before  Mrs.  Bashford  arrived  was  to  lay  linen 
on  the  beds  and  take  the  jackets  from  the 
furniture;  a  couple  of  hours  would  suffice, 
Antoine  said. 

As  we  were  on  our  way  down-stairs  the  old 
fellow  detained  me  a  moment. 

"Have  you  told  him  about  the  parties? 
Pardon  me,  sir,"  he  whispered,  "but  him  and 
the  trust  company  is  responsible.  I  thought 
likely  you'd  tell  him." 

I  shook  my  head  in  angry  rejection  of  the 
idea  that  I  should  tell  Torrence  about  "the 
parties,"  and  dismissed  him  as  soon  as  we 
reached  the  hall. 

"I  suggest,"  said  Torrence,  "that  when 
she  comes  you  have  flowers  in  all  the  rooms; 
the  conservatory  will  supply  enough.  And  it 
occurs  to  me  that  the  more  inconspicuous  you 
make  this  bunch  of  lazy  dependents  the  more 
agreeable  it  will  be  for  Mrs.  Bashford." 

"You  don't  expect  much  of  me!    It  was 

never  in  the  contract  that  I  should  become  the 

patriarch  of  these  venerable  relics.    But  I'll 

warn  them  to  conceal  themselves  as  much  as 

36 


THE   "TROOPS" 

possible.  I  fully  expect  to  leave  the  reserva 
tion  for  good  just  one  hour  after  the  lady  ar 
rives." 

"That's  your  affair,  of  course.  As  she's 
motoring,  we  can't  just  tune  her  arrival,  but 
when  I  get  a  wire  that  she's  on  the  way  I'll 
telephone  you.  And,  of  course,  after  she  gets 
here  I'll  come  at  once  to  pay  my  respects." 

"You  can't  come  too  soon!"  I  answered 
spitefully. 


37 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

AS  soon  as  Torrence  left  I  returned  to  the 
2\.  garage,  feeling  that  with  Mrs.  Bashford 
on  American  soil  my  use  of  the  residence  even 
as  a  loafing-place  was  unbecoming.  Mrs. 
Bashford  was  not  only  in  America,  but  with  a 
motor  at  her  command  she  might  reach  Bar 
ton  at  any  hour.  And  the  vigorous,  dominat 
ing  woman  who  had  captured  my  uncle  Bash, 
buried  him  in  a  far  country,  and  then  effected 
a  hop,  skip,  and  jump  from  Bangkok  to  Seat 
tle,  was  likely  to  be  a  prodigal  spender  of 
gasoline.  Her  propensity  for  travelling  en 
couraged  the  hope  that  she  would  quickly 
weary  of  Barton  and  pine  for  lands  where  the 
elephant  and  jinrickisha  flourish. 

I  had  brought  with  me  the  manuscript  of 
Searles's  play,  and  I  fell  upon  it  irritably  and 
began  reading  the  first  act.  The  dialogue 
moved  briskly,  and  I  read  on  as  though  en 
folded  in  the  air  of  a  crisp  spring  morning. 
38 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

It  was  Searles's  whimsical  stroke,  only  with 
a  better  vehicle  than  he  had  ever  before  found 
for  it.  My  grouch  over  the  upsetting  of  my 
plans  yielded  under  the  spell  of  his  humor. 

''Lady  Larkspur"  was  the  name  assumed 
by  the  daughter  of  a  recluse  naturalist  in  the 
valley  of  Virginia.  She  had  know^i  no  life  but 
that  of  the  open  country,  where  she  ran  wild 
all  summer,  aiding  her  father  in  collecting 
plants  and  butterflies.  At  twenty  she  had 
never  seen  a  city,  and  her  social  contacts  had 
been  limited  to  the  country  folk,  who  viewed 
her  with  commiseration  as  the  prisoner  of  her 
misanthrope  father,  who  in  the  fifteen  years 
of  his  exile  had  maintained  a  hostile  attitude 
toward  his  neighbors.  He  had,  however,  edu 
cated  the  girl  in  such  manner  that  only  the 
cheer  and  joy  of  life  were  known  to  her.  Hat 
ing  mankind,  he  had  encouraged  her  in  nature- 
worship.  She  knew  no  literature  except  the 
classics;  all  history,  even  the  history  of  the 
storied  valley  in  which  she  lived,  was  a  sealed 
book  to  her. 

The  girl's  curiosity  is  roused  by  the  sudden 
appearance  of  strangers  from  the  unknown 
world  beyond,  whom  she  mystifies  by  her 
39 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

quaint  old-worldishness.  Searles  had  taken 
an  old  theme  and  given  a  novel  twist  to  it. 
The  solution  of  the  mystery  of  the  father's 
exile  and  an  amusing  complication  of  lovers 
afforded  a  suspensive  interest  well  sustained 
to  the  end.  There  were  innumerable  charm 
ing  scenes,  as  where  the  girl  in  the  outlandish 
costume  in  which  she  roamed  the  hills  perches 
on  a  boulder  and  recites  the  "Iliad"  to  her 
suitors.  In  the  last  act  she  appears  at  a  ball 
at  a  country  house  in  sophisticated  raiment, 
and  the  story  ends  in  the  key  of  mirth  in 
which  it  began. 

It  was  a  delightful  blending  and  moderni 
zation  of  Diana,  Atalanta,  Cinderella,  and 
Rosalind;  but  even  in  the  typewritten  page  it 
was  amazingly  alive  and  well  calculated  to 
evoke  tears  and  laughter.  That  a  play  so  en 
thralling  should  be  buried  in  a  safety-vault 
was  not  to  be  thought  of,  and  I  sat  down  and 
wrote  Searles  a  long  letter  demanding  that  he 
at  once  forget  the  lost  star  for  whom  he  had 
written  the  piece,  suggesting  the  names  of 
several  well-known  actresses  I  thought  worth 
considering  for  the  difficult  leading  r61e.  Not 
satisfied  with  this,  I  telephoned  a  telegram  to 
40 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

the  agent  at  Barton  for  transmission  to  Searles 
at  the  Ohio  address  he  had  given  me. 

The  next  day  passed  without  incident,  and 
on  the  second,  hearing  nothing  from  Torrence, 
I  began  to  doubt  Mrs.  Bashford's  proximity. 
On  the  third,  still  hearing  nothing,  I  harkened 
to  an  invitation  from  friends  at  New  London 
and  drove  over  in  the  runabout  for  dinner. 
It  was  midnight  when  I  got  back,  and  when  I 
reached  the  gates  several  men  dashed  out  of 
the  lodge  and  halted  me. 

"She's  come,  sir,"  announced  Antoine, 
emerging  from  the  darkness,  and  speaking  un 
der  stress  of  deep  emotion;  "madame  the 
widow  has  arrived,  sir !" 

"Why  not  Cleopatra  or  the  Queen  of 
Sheba?"  I  exclaimed  testily  to  cover  my  an 
noyance  that  my  aunt  had  effected  her  de 
scent  in  my  absence.  "Well,  she  was  ex 
pected;  the  house  is  hers;  what  do  you  want 
me  to  do  about  it?"  I  ended  with  affected 
jocularity. 

"We  received  her  the  best  we  could;  but  it 
was  most  unfortunate,  your  not  being  here, 
sir." 

"Is  that  your  idea,  Antoine,  or  do  you  re- 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

fleet  the  lady's  sentiments?  I'm  properly 
humiliated  either  way.  Tell  me  just  what  she 
said." 

"Well,  sir,  she  just  laughed  when  I  took  the 
liberty  of  apologizing." 

"The  sneering  laughter  of  outraged  dig 
nity!  Go  ahead  and  give  me  the  rest  of 
it." 

"It  was  at  ten  she  came,  sir,  and  the  guard 
held  her  up,  not  recognizing  her,  here  at  the 
gate,  and  when  the  car  didn't  stop  the  boys 
chased  her  and  fired  at  the  tires  of  her  ma 
chine.  It  was  very  dreadful,  sir.  And  at  the 
house — at  the  door,  sir — the  guard  was  very 
harsh  with  her,  sir,  most  regrettable." 

"You  certainly  made  a  mess  of  it!"  I 
ejaculated.  "But  you  did  let  her  in — into  her 
own  house,  we  must  remember — you  did 
grant  her  the  courtesy  of  a  lodging  for  the 
night?"  I  inquired  ironically. 

"She's  retired,  sir.  There  was  a  lady  with 
her;  maybe  a  maid;  I  can't  exactly  say;  and 
we  did  everything,  sir,  to  make  her  comfort 
able.  She  was  not  what  you  might  say  fussy, 
sir,  but  quite  human-like.  We  was  all  re 
lieved,  sir,  the  way  she  took  everything.  I 
42 


THE  AMAZING    WIDOW 

hope  you'll  pardon  us,  sir,  which  was  due  to 
not  being  warned." 

"Oh,  it's  all  right  with  me,  but  in  the  morn 
ing  she'll  probably  bounce  the  whole  lot  of 
us.  An  old  lady  fatigued  from  a  journey  cross 
country  and  shot  at  on  her  own  premises — 
it's  a  very  pretty  story." 

They  were  a  picturesque  lot,  the  ancient 
waiters  and  bell-hops  grouped  about  Antoine 
with  their  lanterns  and  garden  inplements  and 
firearms.  Antoine  was  swallowing  hard  in  his 
effort  to  continue  his  recital. 

"You  say  an  old  lady,  sir;  the  mistress  is 
not  really  what  you  would  call  so  old — not 
exactly,  sir." 

"Really  a  youngish  party,  I  should  say," 
volunteered  Graves,  the  gardener. 

Just  what  these  veterans  would  call  old  was 
a  matter  of  conjecture.  "Urn,"  I  murmured, 
and  considered  the  situation. 

"Young  or  old,  she  would  hardly  relish  her 
reception.  There  was  a  maid,  and  they  came 
in  a  machine?  Did  you  put  up  the  chauffeur 
or  did  you  shoot  him  on  the  spot?" 

"It  was  a  hired  machine,  sir;  and  madame 
sent  it  away.  The  driver  was  a  good  deal  up- 
43 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

set  over  the  shooting.    One  of  the  rear  tires 
was  quite  blown  away." 

"You're  in  luck  if  he  doesn't  have  you  all 
arrested  to-morrow,"  I  remarked  consolingly. 

"  Mrs.  Bashford  seemed  quite  amused  by  the 
occurrence,"  Antoine  continued.  "  'Wonder 
ful  America ! '  she  kept  saying  after  we'd  got 
her  inside.  We  gave  her  tea,  which  was  all 
she  asked  for.  She  takes  her  tea  with  cream, 
sir.  We  did  our  best  to  make  her  comfortable. 
And  there  was  a  dog,  sir.  I  recall  that  the 
master  was  not  fond  of  dogs.  There  was 
never  one  on  the  place." 

Antoine  spoke  truly;  if  there  was  anything 
my  Uncle  Bash  detested  it  was  a  dog,  but  I 
reflected  that  a  world-skipping  widow  who 
could  corral  so  difficult  a  subject  as  my  uncle 
would  be  quite  capable  of  inspiring  him  with 
delight  in  the  canine  species.  My  respect  for 
the  woman's  powers  of  persuasion  was  in 
tensified  by  this  disclosure. 

She  had  failed  to  wire  Torrence  as  she  prom 
ised  or  he  had  neglected  to  warn  me  of  her 
coming;  either  way  it  was  a  pretty  kettle  of 
fish,  and  I  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  fac 
ing  her  wholly  pardonable  indignation. 
44 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

To  make  sure  that  nothing  was  required  of 
me  until  morning,  I  drove  past  the  house  with 
the  army  hanging  to  the  footboard.  The 
lower  rooms  were  dark,  but  lights  twinkled 
through  the  second-story  shutters.  My  aunt 
was  established  on  the  premises,  and  her  com 
ing  and  the  circumstances  of  her  advent  con 
stituted  a  good  joke  of  which  I  and  not  she 
was  the  victim.  When  I  reached  my  quarters 
in  the  garage  I  sat  down  and  laughed  until 
Flynn  appeared,  frightened  by  my  noisy 
mirth  that  had  penetrated  to  his  quarters.  I 
got  rid  of  him  and  smoked  a  pipe  and  began 
the  packing  I  meant  to  finish  early  in  the 
morning. 

I  wakened  early,  rang  a  bell  connecting  my 
rooms  with  the  chauffeur's  end  of  the  garage 
as  a  warning  to  the  Flynns  to  prepare  break 
fast,  and  was  dressed  when  the  Irishman  came 
in  with  the  tray.  In  the  absence  of  a  morning 
paper  I  clung  to  him  for  company. 

"I  trust  you  will  not  be  leaving,  sorr,"  he 
remarked,  eyeing  my  half-packed  trunk. 

"Very  soon,  Flynn." 

"Then  Elsie  and  I  will  be  going  too,  sorr. 
It's  most  uncomfortable  they're  making  us — 
45 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

Dutch  and  the  rest.  That  Antoine  and  his 
army  keep  pesterin'  us  and  callin'  us  Huns." 

"You  raise  a  very  interesting  question, 
Flynn,  a  very  delicate  question  of  fact  and 
propriety.  Satisfied  as  you  and  Elsie  are  of 
your  entire  loyalty  to  the  United  States  and 
the  associated  Powers,  I  think  you  should  re 
main,  a  martyr,  if  need  be,  to  the  great  cause 
of  world  democracy." 

"It's  most  disagreeable  we  find  it,  the  wife 
and  me,"  he  said  mournfully. 

"Suffer  and  be  strong — that's  the  watch 
word  !  We  will  hope  that  Mrs.  Bashford  is  a 
woman  of  sound  sense  and  tact  who  will  exert 
herself  to  restore  peace  on  her  property.  When 
I  call  to  pay  my  respects  and  make  my  adieus 
I  shall  speak  to  her  of  the  situation  and  vouch 
for  your  loyalty.  You  may  count  on  me. 
You  haven't,  I  suppose,  seen  the  widow  yet — 
she's  probably  sleeping  late." 

"Quite  the  contrary,  sorr.  She's  been  up 
and  around  for  an  hour  an'  more.  She's  been 
all  over  the  place  and  stopped  for  a  squint  at 
the  garage,  her  and  the  pup." 

"She's  been  here,  inspecting  the  garage?"  I 
asked,  glancing  at  my  watch.  It  was  not  yet 
46 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

eight  o'clock.  The  banter  died  out  of  me; 
clearly  it  had  been  my  duty  to  be  on  hand  to 
pilot  her  over  the  estate,  or  at  least  to  receive 
her  at  the  garage.  "Just  what  was  the 
lady's  frame  of  mind — as  to  things  generally. 
Peeved,  was  she,  over  the  row  last  night?" 

"Oh,  no,  sorr;  quite  cheerful  an'  friendly. 
She's  ordered  a  big  car  from  New  York  and 
told  me  it  would  be  coming  up  to-day  and  to 
make  a  place  for  it." 

Here  was  news  indeed,  destroying  all  my 
hopes  that  she  meditated  only  a  brief  sojourn. 
The  purchase  of  a  machine  meant  definitely 
that  she  would  remain  for  some  time,  perhaps 
for  the  winter.  I  poured  a  second  cup  of 
coffee,  swallowed  it,  grabbed  my  hat  and 
stick,  and  asked  enlightment  as  to  the  course 
taken  by  Mrs.  Bashford  when  she  left  the 
garage. 

"She  took  the  lower  road,  sorr,  toward  the 
Sound  and  stepped  off  quite  brisk- like." 

It  was  the  serenest  of  September  mornings, 
and  I  hurried  away,  thinking  the  cloudless 
blue  arch,  the  twinkling  sea,  and  the  crisp 
air  might  serve  to  soften  my  aunt's  displea 
sure  at  her  hostile  reception.  From  the  con- 
47 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

servatories  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  woman  on 
the  beach — a  slender,  agile  woman  throwing  a 
ball  for  the  amusement  of  a  fox-terrier.  She 
threw  the  ball  with  a  boy's  free  swing,  oc 
casionally  varying  a  hot  one  down  the  shore 
with  a  toss  high  in  air  which  she  caught  up 
herself  before  the  terrier  could  reach  it.  The 
two  were  having  no  end  of  a  good  time.  She 
laughed  joyfully  when  the  ball  fell  into  her 
hands  and  the  terrier  barked  his  discomfi 
ture  and  eagerness  for  a  chance  to  redeem 
himself. 

Antoine's  equivocal  statement  as  to  Mrs. 
Bashford's  age  was  ridiculous.  Instead  of  the 
middle-aged  woman  whom  I  was  prepared  to 
meet,  here  was  beyond  question  a  vigorous, 
healthy  being  whose  every  movement  spoke 
for  youth  and  the  joy  of  life.  It  might,  after 
all,  be  the  maid  of  whom  Antoine  had  spoken; 
I  advanced  slowly,  anxious  not  to  break  in 
upon  her  romp  with  the  terrier — they  made  a 
charming  picture — and  trying  to  formulate  an 
introduction.  I  reached  a  low  stone  wall  that 
separated  the  lawn  from  the  beach  just  as  she 
effected  a  running  pick-up  of  the  ball.  She 
turned  swiftly  and  flung  it  straight  at  my 
48 


THE  AMAZING   WIDOW 

head.  Involuntarily  I  put  up  my  hand  and 
caught  it  just  as  she  saw  me  and  cried  out — a 
cry  of  warning  and  contrition.  I  tossed  the 
ball  to  the  dog. 

"What  must  you  think  of  me!"  she  ex 
claimed.  "  I  was  blinded  by  the  sunlight 
and  I  didn't  see  you — really  I  did  not!" 

"I  had  no  business  being  in  the  way,"  I 
laughed,  noting  first  her  glowing  color,  her 
violet  eyes — amazingly  fine  eyes  they  were — 
her  fair  hair  with  its  golden  glint,  her  plain 
black  gown  with  lawn  collar  and  wristbands. 
It  was  her  age,  however,  that  roused  me  to 
instant  speculation.  Twenty-five,  I  decided, 
was  a  maximum;  more  likely  she  was  not 
more  than  twenty- two,  and  if  I  had  been  told 
that  eighteen  was  the  total  of  her  years  I 
shouldn't  have  had  the  heart  to  dispute  it. 

"Bob  Singleton,"  I  said  and  stupidly  added, 
"and  you  are  Mrs.  Bashford?"  unable  for  the 
life  of  me  to  avoid  turning  the  statement  into 
an  inquiry. 

"I  am  your  aunt  Alice,"  she  said  with  a 

smile,  putting  out  her  hand.    "Down,  Rex!" 

she   commanded    the   dancing   terrier;    "lie 

down;  school's  over  now";  whereupon  Rex 

49 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

obediently  sprawled  in  the  sand  and  began 
trying  to  swallow  the  ball. 

"Wasn't  that  silly  of  me  to  try  to  kill  you 
the  first  time  we  met!"  Her  eyes  danced 
with  merriment.  "I  didn't  know,  of  course, 
that  any  one  was  about.  But  you  made  a  very 
nice  catch  of  it!  I  had  expected  to  receive 
you  most  formally  in  the  drawing-room,  but 
this  really  serves  very  well.  That  tree  down 
yonder  is  inviting;  suppose  we  stay  out  here 
and  talk  a  bit." 

This  struck  me  as  the  pleasantest  thing 
imaginable,  though  I  was  still  dazed  and  my 
tongue  seemed  to  have  died  in  my  mouth. 
This  girl,  this  wholly  charming  and  delight 
ful  young  woman,  was  the  monstrous  being  I 
had  conjectured  as  the  globe-trotting  widow 
who  had  kidnapped  and  married  my  uncle ! 
Not  only  had  she  married  my  uncle  Bash  and 
in  due  course  buried  him;  she  had  been  a 
widow  when  she  married  him !  I  furtively 
studied  her  face — a  face  that  invited  scrutiny 
— and  her  candid  eyes  that  met  my  gaze  of 
wonder  and  frank  admiration  easily  and  with 
out  a  trace  of  self-consciousness.  On  the 
third  finger  of  her  left  hand  was  a  slender 
5° 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

band  of  gold.  The  thing  was  staggering,  be 
wildering.  She  was  clearly  anxious  to  be 
friendly,  but  nothing  that  I  had  thought  of 
saying  to  her  fitted  the  situation. 

"In  the  first  place,"  I  finally  began,  "I 
must  apologize  most  humbly  for  the  earnest 
efforts  of  the  servants  to  murder  you  last 
night.  Mr.  Torrence  had  promised  to  let  me 
know  when  you  would  reach  here,  but  he 
must  have  forgotten  it.  I  had  motored  to  a 
friend's  house  to  dine  and  didn't  get  back  un 
til  the  mischief  was  done.  I'm  very  sorry. 
You  must  have  thought  you  had  driven  into  a 
camp  of  savages !" 

"Not  for  worlds  would  I  have  missed  that," 
she  exclaimed  with  a  merry  laugh.  "It  was 
perfectly  delicious !  And  it  was  all  my  fault. 
I  meant  to  remain  a  day  at  Hartford,  you 
know,  and  send  a  message  to  Mr.  Torrence 
from  there,  but  I  found  that  by  pushing  on  I 
could  reach  here  yesterday.  Then  the  ma 
chine  I  hired  showed  every  weakness  that 
motors  are  subject  to  and  we  were  hours  later 
than  the  Hartford  garage  man  promised.  And 
you  know  we  English  always  expect  strange 
things  to  happen  in  America.  I  don't  under- 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

stand  yet  why  those  people  at  the  gates  were 
so  jolly  anxious  to  kill  us;  but  it  doesn't  mat 
ter;  you  would  only  spoil  the  joke  by  explain 
ing  it." 

However,  I  did  my  best — it  was  a  weak  at 
tempt — to  explain  the  nervousness  of  the 
veteran  servants  and  their  display  of  violence. 
Her  arrival  made  it  likely  that  we  should  soon 
know  more  about  the  "parties"  whose  visits 
and  inquiries  had  so  alarmed  Antoine  and  his 
comrades.  Now  that  I  saw  Mrs.  Bashford 
the  idea  that  any  one  could  entertain  malev 
olent  designs  upon  her  was  more  preposter 
ous  than  ever,  and  I  resolved  that  she  must 
be  shielded  from  annoyances  of  every  kind. 
I  told  her  with  all  the  humor  I  could  throw 
into  the  recital  of  the  drilling  of  the  bell-hops 
and  of  the  uncomfortable  relations  between 
the  Allied  forces  and  the  Teutonic  minority  on 
the  estate. 

"It  was  dear  of  Mr.  Bashford  to  provide  a 
home  for  these  people;  wasn't  he  really  the 
kindest  soul  that  ever  lived?"  she  said  softly. 

She  gazed  wistfully  seaward,  and  I  saw  the 
gleam  of  tears  on  her  long  lashes.  My  uncle 
had,  then,  meant  something  to  her !  No  one, 
52 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

in  speech  or  manner,  could  have  suggested  the 
adventuress  less;  Uncle  Bash  was  a  gentle 
man,  a  man  of  aesthetic  tastes,  and  the  girl  was 
adorable.  More  remarkable  things  had  hap 
pened  in  the  history  of  love  and  marriage 
than  that  two  such  persons,  meeting  in  a  far 
corner  of  the  world,  would  honestly  care  for 
each  other.  My  respect  for  Uncle  Bash  grew; 
he  had  married  the  most  attractive  girl  in  the 
world,  and  here  she  was  with  the  bloom  of  her 
girlhood  upon  her,  tripping  alone  through  a 
world  that  might  have  been  created  merely 
that  she  might  confer  light  and  cheer  upon  it. 

"You  stopped  at  Hartford,"  I  began, 
breaking  a  long  silence.  "You  have  friends 
there ?" 

"Not  one !  I  had  made  a  pious  pilgrimage 
to  Mark  Twain's  last  home  at  Redding,  and, 
hearing  that  he  had  lived  at  Hartford,  I  came 
through  there  to  render  my  fullest  homage. 
He  has  always  been  one  of  my  heroes,  you 
know."  She  laughingly  lifted  her  hands  and 
counted  upon  her  fingers — "  'The  Jumping 
Frog,'  Tom  and  Huck,  and '  Mulberry  Sellers/ 
'The  Prince  and  the  Pauper,'  and  'Pudd'n- 
head  Wilson' !  I  know  them  all  by  heart !" 
53 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

"Our  introduction  is  complete,"  I  said 
reverently.  "Let's  consider  ourselves  old 
friends." 

"I  rather  thought  we'd  understand  each 
other,"  she  said  in  her  even,  mellow  tones. 
"You  know,  we  had  your  photograph  out 
East — a  very  good  one,  it  seems — so  I  had 
an  idea  of  what  you  looked  like." 

"The  photograph  gave  you  an  unfair  ad 
vantage!  And  I  didn't  know  Uncle  Bash 
carried  one  away  with  him." 

"He  was  very  fond  of  you,"  she  said 
gravely.  "He  was  very  proud  that  you  had 
gone  into  the  war." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that;  I  thought  he  dis 
approved  of  me  for  refusing  to  go  into  busi 
ness.  He  offered  me  a  substantial  interest  be 
fore  he  sold  out." 

"I  know  that;  but  I  think  he  liked  you 
rather  better  for  refusing  it.  Business  with 
him  was  merely  a  means  to  an  end.  And  it 
was  doubly  sad  that  he  should  die  just  when 
he  was  free  to  enjoy  the  beautiful  things  he 
loved." 

It  was  at  the  tip  of  my  tongue  to  say  that 
the  loss  of  her  companionship  was  even  more 
grievous;  but  nothing  in  her  manner  invited 
54 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

such  a  comment.  Her  grave  moods  were  to 
be  respected,  and  she  talked  for  some  time  of 
Uncle  Bash's  life  in  the  East,  of  his  short  ill 
ness  and  quite  unexpected  death. 

"But  I'm  keeping  you,"  she  exclaimed  sud 
denly,  jumping  down  from  the  wall.  "And  I 
must  finish  my  unpacking." 

As  we  walked  to  the  house  I  answered  her 
questions  about  the  neighborhood,  and  prom 
ised  to  telephone  Torrence  immediately  of 
her  arrival. 

"You  will  have  luncheon  with  us — or  may 
be  dinner  would  be  better — or  both?  An- 
toine  told  me  of  your  bachelor  establishment, 
but  eating  alone  is  bad  for  the  digestion.  I 
shall  think  you  resent  my  coming  if  you  don't 
dine  at  the  house  every  day.  Mrs.  Farns- 
worth — my  friend  and  companion — is  a  very 
interesting  woman.  I  am  sure  you  will  like 
her." 

The  information  that  she  was  protected  in 
her  youthful  widowhood  by  a  companion  was 
imparted  neatly. 

"It  was  really  much  nicer,  meeting  this 
way,"  she  said,  giving  me  her  hand.  "We 
shall  expect  you  at  seven." 

I  found  them  on  the  veranda,  which  had 
SS 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

been  transformed  since  my  last  glimpse  of  it. 
Rugs,  wicker  furniture,  wall-pockets  of  flow 
ers,  and  paper  lanterns  dropped  over  the 
electric  lights  gave  it  the  appearance  of  a 
prettily  set  scene.  She  came  toward  me,  a 
slender  figure  in  white.  She  seemed  taller  in 
white;  as  she  took  a  few  steps  toward  me,  I 
was  aware  of  a  stateliness  I  had  missed  at 
the  shore.  A  queenly  young  person,  but  as 
unaffectedly  cordial  and  friendly  as  in  the 
bright  morning  sunlight. 
"  Mrs.  Farnsworth,  Mr.  Singleton." 
Mrs.  Farnsworth  was  a  pleasant-faced, 
white-haired  woman  with  remarkably  fine, 
dark  eyes.  If  the  positions  had  been  changed 
— if  Mrs.  Farnsworth  had  been  my  uncle's 
choice  of  a  wife,  the  situation  would  have  been 
much  more  real.  I  instantly  liked  Mrs.  Farns 
worth.  She  uttered  a  few  commonplaces  in 
an  uncommonplace  tone  without  pausing  in 
her  knitting.  Mrs.  Bashford  had  been  knit 
ting  too,  and  as  she  sat  down  she  took  up  her 
yarn  and  needles.  It  was  a  sweater,  I  think; 
it  doesn't  matter.  What  matters  is  that  her 
hands  moved  swiftly  and  deftly.  Her  manner 
of  knitting  was  charming:  She  knew  that  I 
56 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

was  watching  her  hands  and  remarked  with  a 
graceful  turn  of  the  head: 

"For  an  English  boy  somewhere !  I  began 
by  knitting  for  my  brother  and  cousins,  but" 
— her  head  bent  lower — "that  isn't  for  me  to 
do  any  more."  Her  eyes,  turned  upon  me 
for  a  moment,  were  bright  with  tears. 

I  was  speaking  of  the  splendid  valor  of 
Englishmen  I  had  known  in  France  when  An- 
toine  announced  dinner. 

It  had  been  years  since  the  house  had  known 
a  woman's  hand,  and  it  was  astonishing  how 
humanized  it  had  become  in  a  few  hours. 
The  long  dining-room,  always  a  bare,  forbid 
ding  place,  had  been  reduced  to  cosey  propor 
tions  by  screens,  and  a  small  round  table 
replaced  the  massive,  oblong  affair  that  al 
ways  looked  as  though  it  had  been  built  into 
the  house  by  the  carpenters. 

"I  found  those  lovely  screens  in  the  garret 
and  thought  we  might  as  well  enjoy  them, 
and  that  Lang  Yao  jar  you  see  on  the  side 
board  oughtn't  to  be  hidden  in  the  vault." 

"I  am  sure  Uncle  Bash  would  be  happy  to 
know  you  care  for  these  things  so  much,"  I 
said,  noting  that  the  white  roses  she  had 
57 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

chosen  for  the  jar — I  knew  the  choice  was 
hers — served  to  emphasize  the  deep  red  of 
its  exquisite  glaze. 

"I  am  among  the  unelect,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Farnsworth.  "When  I  am  told  that  such 
things  are  beautiful  I  am  immediately  con 
vinced.  I  say  they  are  beautiful,  and  that  is 
enough." 

"That  has  always  been  enough  for  me,"  I 
replied.  "  My  uncle  used  to  try  to  interest  me, 
and  I  wore  out  a  good  many  pairs  of  shoes  fol 
lowing  him  through  museums  and  salesrooms, 
but  he  gave  me  up  when  he  found  that  my 
pagan  soul  was  aroused  by  nothing  but  pot 
tery  idols.  It  wasn't  the  pottery  that  in 
terested  me  even  there,  but  only  the  ugliest 
designs.  I  am  a  heathen ! " 

"I  am  gratified  that  you  make  the  admis 
sion  so  frankly,"  said  Mrs.  Farnsworth.  "I 
have  always  been  a  great  admirer  of  the 
heathen." 

"I  like  them  when  they  are  nice,"  said 
Mrs.  Bashford. 

"Yes;  I  have  found  you  very  discriminat 
ing  in  your  choice  of  the  species,  Alice.  But, 
you  know,  Mr.  Singleton,  Alice  and  I  never 
58 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

can  agree  as  to  just  what  a  heathen  is.  All 
our  squabbles  have  been  about  that.  The 
old  hymn  pictured  the  heathen  in  his  blind 
ness  bowing  down  to  wood  and  stone;  but 
I'm  disposed  to  broaden  my  definition  to  in 
clude  all  who  believe  in  fairies  good  or  bad, 
and  persons  who  honestly  believe  in  signs, 
omens,  and  lucky  stones  and  all  who  have 
the  receipt  of  fern-seed  and  walk  invisible — 
there's  Shakespeare  for  that.  Some  very 
good  Christians  are  also  very  nice  heathens: 
we  mustn't  be  narrow  and  bigoted  about 
such  things." 

"I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Bashford  soberly, 
"that  I  have  always  believed  in  witches;  and 
if  I  keep  on  believing  I  shall  see  one  some 
day.  We  shall  find  anything  in  this  world 
that  we  believe  in  hard  enough.  Now  a  witch 
— the  kind  of  witch  I  have  always  expected 
to  wake  up  and  find  flourishing  a  broom  at 
me  from  the  foot  of  my  bed " 

She  was  talking  very  gravely,  as  though 
witches  were  the  commonest  topic  of  con 
versation,  but  finding  my  eyes  turned  upon 
her  in  frank  wonder,  she  laughed  at  my  amaze 
ment. 

59 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

"Let  us  be  honest  with  you,  Mr.  Single 
ton,"  Mrs.  Farnsworth  explained,  "and  tell 
you  that  we  are  just  testing  you.  It  may  be 
a  breach  of  hospitality,  and  you  are  all  but 
a  stranger,  but  we  are  curious  to  know  whether 
you  are  of  that  small  company  of  the  favored 
of  heaven  who  can  play  at  being  foolish  with 
out  becoming  idiotic.  Alice  is  sometimes  very 
near  idiocy.  You  admit  that,  Alice  !" 

"I  not  only  admit  it,  but  I  might  even 
boast  of  it ! "  my  aunt  replied. 

At  the  mention  of  witches  I  had  caught 
Antoine  crossing  himself  as  he  turned  to  the 
sideboard.  I  confess  that  I  myself  had  been 
startled  by  the  drift  of  the  talk.  Mrs.  Farns 
worth  was  far  from  being  the  grim  duenna  I 
had  feared  might  be  my  aunt's  chaperon,  and 
there  was  certainly  nothing  in  her  appearance 
to  suggest  that  she  was  a  believer  in  witches. 
She  and  my  aunt  treated  each  other  as  though 
they  were  contemporaries,  and  it  was  Alice 
and  Constance  between  them.  As  the  talk 
ran  exhaustively  through  the  lore  of  witches 
and  goblins  I  had  hoped  that  one  or  the  other 
would  drop  some  clew  as  to  the  previous  his 
tory  of  my  amazing  aunt.  It  was  as  plain  as 
60 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

day  that  she  and  Mrs.  Farnsworth  indulged 
in  whims  for  the  joy  of  it,  and  her  zest  in  the 
discussion  of  witches,  carried  on  while  An- 
toine  served  the  table,  lips  tightly  compressed, 
and  with  an  exaggeration  of  his  stately  tread, 
was  the  more  startling  from  the  fact  that  my 
aunt's  companion  was  a  woman  of  years,  a 
handsome  woman  with  a  high-bred  air  who 
did  not  look  at  all  like  a  person  who  would 
discuss  witches  as  though  they  had  been 
made  the  topic  of  the  day  by  the  afternoon 
newspapers.  And  when  the  shape  of  a  witch's 
chin  became  the  immediate  point  of  discus 
sion  I  knew  it  was  in  Antoine's  mind  that 
such  conversation  was  unbecoming,  an  offense 
to  the  memory  of  Raymond  Bashford.  Mrs. 
Farnsworth's  brown  eyes  sparkled,  and  the 
color  deepened  in  my  aunt's  cheeks  as  we  dis 
coursed  upon  witches  and  the  chins  thereof. 
I  had  a  friend  in  college  who  used  to  indulge 
in  the  same  sort  of  piffling,  but  that  my  uncle's 
widow  and  her  elderly  companion  should  de 
light  in  such  absurdities  bewildered  me.  I 
had  been  addressing  my  aunt  as  Mrs.  Bash- 
ford — it  seemed  ridiculous  to  call  her  Aunt 
Alice — and  in  the  heat  of  our  argument  as  to 
61 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

whether  witches  are  necessarily  naughty  and 
malign  beings  I  had  just  uttered  the  "Mrs." 
when  she  bent  toward  me  and  said  gravely 
and  with  no  hint  of  archness:  " Can't  we  make 
it  Alice  and  Bob?  I  think  that  would  be  a 
lot  friendlier." 

I  experienced  a  curious  flutter  of  the  heart 
the  first  time  I  tried  it,  but  after  that  it  came 
very  easily.  I  found  it  impossible  to  think 
of  her  in  terms  of  auntship,  and  it  was  a  relief 
to  have  the  relationship  waived.  She  was 
simply  the  jolliest,  prettiest  girl  that  had  ever 
crossed  my  horizon,  and  to  be  talking  to  her 
across  the  table  gave  me  thrills  compared 
with  which  sliding  out  of  clouds  in  an  airplane 
is  only  a  rocking-chair  pastime  for  old  men. 

The  veteran  chef  of  the  Tyringham  had 
produced  an  excellent  dinner,  though  the 
witch  talk  made  Antoine  a  trifle  nervous  in 
serving  it. 

We  had  coffee  on  the  veranda  (Alice  thought 
it  would  be  nicer  there),  and  as  Antoine  gave 
me  my  cup  he  edged  close  to  my  chair  to 
whisper: 

"That  party,  sir.    If  he  should  come " 

"Tell  the  troops  not  to  attack  any  visitors," 
62 


THE  AMAZING    WIDOW 

I  said,  loud  enough  for  the  others  to  hear. 
"Mr.  Torrence  will  be  here  shortly,  and  it 
would  be  annoying  to  have  him  ushered  in 
on  a  shutter.  We  must  establish  a  rule  that 
callers  are  not  to  be  fired  upon  at  the  gate." 

"I  know  why  this  is  the  land  of  the  free 
and  the  home  of  the  brave,"  laughed  Alice. 
"One  has  to  be  brave  to  live  here." 

Antoine  departed  with  a  resentful  twist  of 
the  shoulders,  and  I  decided  to  meet  squarely 
the  matter  of  the  visitors  who  had  so  troubled 
him. 

"Please  don't  be  frightened,"  I  said  as 
lightly  as  possible,  "but  these  old  fellows 
haven't  enough  to  do,  and  they  are  full  of 
apprehensions.  With  nobody  here  to  keep 
them  busy  it's  remarkable  they  haven't  found 
a  ghost." 

"If  they  only  would!"  murmured  Mrs. 
Farnsworth. 

"No  such  luck !  They  have  been  alarmed 
by  an  agent  of  some  sort  who  wants  to  wel 
come  you  to  America  by  selling  you  a  piano 
on  easy  payments." 

Antoine  had  been  hovering  inside,  and  my 
remark  brought  him  to  the  door. 
63 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

"Beg  pardon,  Mr.  Singleton,  but  that 
party  is  not  an  agent,  but  quite  different,  sir. 
He  came  to  the  house,  quite  like  a  gentleman, 
several  times,  and  asked  if  Mrs.  Bashford 
had  arrived.  He  came  in  a  big  car,  and  seemed 
disappointed,  madame,  that  you  were  not 
here  and  not  expected.  The  second  time  he 
said  he  was  just  passing  on  his  way  to  the 
city  and  thought  he  would  stop  again. 
A  very  well-spoken  gentleman,  and  we'd 
have  thought  nothing  of  it  except  that  a 
few  days  later  I  caught  a  man  I  was  sure 
was  the  same  party,  but  dressed  in  rough 
clothes,  sneaking  across  the  veranda  right 
there  where  you're  sitting.  When  I  called 
to  him  he  ran  as  hard  as  he  could,  and  Graves 
— he's  the  vegetable-gardener — saw  him  leav 
ing  the  property  by  the  back  way." 

"It's  hardly  possible  that  a  man  who  im 
pressed  you  as  a  gentleman  when  you  saw 
him  at  the  door  should  have  returned  in 
disguise  and  tried  to  break  into  the  house. 
The  two  things  don't  hang  together,  An- 
toine." 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Farnsworth,  "it 
would  be  so  much  more  delightful  if  that  were 
64 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

true !  Any  one  in  disguise  is  bound  to  be  in 
teresting.  A  disguise  suggests  most  beautiful 
possibilities.  And  to  be  sought,  asked  for  by 
a  stranger ! " 

I  could  not  be  sure  in  the  dim  light  of  the 
veranda,  but  I  thought  I  detected  a  white 
slipper  cautiously  reach  out  and  touch  a  black 
one.  At  any  rate,  Mrs.  Farnsworth  lapsed 
into  silence. 

"Thank  you  very  much,  Antoine,"  said 
Alice.  "It  is  very  proper  for  you  to  tell  me 
anything  of  any  stranger  on  the  property,  but 
I  see  nothing  here  to  be  alarmed  about.  If 
the  same  gentleman  calls  again,  let  me  know 
instantly." 

"Very  good,  madame."  And  then,  turn 
ing  as  though  conferring  upon  me  a  part 
of  his  responsibility  for  the  security  of  the 
premises:  "It's  a  party  with  a  limp;  just  a 
trifling  limp,  sir;  you'd  hardly  notice  it.  It 
was  worse  the  last  time  as  he  ran  away.  A 
smallish  man,  rather  dark,  with  a  little  mus 
tache  turned  up  at  the  ends." 

"I  have  noted  all  these  details,  Antoine," 
I  replied;  and  again  I  thought  there  was  a 
telegraphic  exchange  between  the  ladies, 
65 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

though  this  time  a  black  slipper  was  the 
means  of  communication. 

Torrence  arrived  in  a  moment,  and  nothing 
has  ever  given  me  keener  joy  than  his  shock 
of  surprise  at  beholding  Mrs.  Bashford.  As 
I  introduced  the  ladies  he  was  so  overcome 
that  he  greeted  Mrs.  Farnsworth  as  Mrs. 
Bashford — a  not  unnatural  mistake — and 
there  was  an  embarrassing  moment  as  I  set 
him  right.  Having  done  this,  I  seated  my 
self  beside  Mrs.  Farnsworth  that  Torrence 
might  be  free  to  talk  business  with  my  aunt. 
I  was  devoutly  grateful  that  he  had  not  been 
present  at  the  dinner-table,  for  my  own  ef 
forts  to  interest  Torrence  in  anything  but  the 
most  practical  matters  had  always  been 
highly  unsuccessful,  and  the  discussion  of 
ghosts  and  witches  would  hardly  have  amused 
him.  As  Mrs.  Farnsworth  and  I  took  up  the 
recent  movements  on  the  western  front  I  over 
heard  Torrence  putting  all  the  machinery  of 
the  trust  company  at  Mrs.  Bashford's  dis 
posal.  It  seemed  almost  a  blasphemy  to  be 
talking  of  income  and  like  matters  to  a  woman 
like  Alice  Bashford ! 

They  continued  their  conference  for  some 
time,  but  I  got  nothing  out  of  Mrs.  Farns- 
66 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

worth  that  shed  any  light  on  my  aunt's  his 
tory  beyond  what  she  had  told  me  herself, 
which  was  precious  little.  Mrs.  Farnsworth's 
talk  was  that  of  a  cultivated  woman.  Her 
voice  interested  me  unaccountably;  the  tones 
had  all  manner  of  shadings  and  inflections; 
it  was  curiously  musical,  but  in  speaking  of 
the  great  war  a  passionate  note  crept  into  it 
that  stirred  me  deeply. 

"This  has  been  a  dark  year  for  Alice,"  she 
remarked.  "Mr.  Bashford's  death,  followed 
quickly  by  that  of  her  brother — an  only  son 
—piled  a  cruel  burden  of  grief  upon  the  dear 
child.  She  wants  to  go  back  to  England  to 
nurse  the  wounded,  to  do  anything  for  our 
dear  country,  but  I  want  to  keep  her  here  a 
little  while  until  she  can  readjust  herself.  You 
must  not  think,  Mr.  Singleton,  that  she  has  no 
feeling;  you  have  no  idea  of  the  depths  of 
that  child's  nature;  they  are  unfathomable! 
It  is  my  task  to  encourage  her  in  frivolity 
and  the  make-believe  she  loves — hence  our 
absurdities  at  the  table.  She's  the  drollest 
child,  but  with  wonderful  understanding. 
And  at  times  it's  not  easy  to  keep  the  divine 
spark  of  play  alive  in  her  heart." 

The  light  of  one  of  the  porch  lamps  fell 
67 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

upon  Alice's  face  as  she  patiently  gave  heed 
to  Torrence's  account  of  his  stewardship.  One 
of  her  hands  gently  stroked  the  terrier  that 
lay  quietly  in  a  chair  beside  her.  I  was  sure 
that  his  painstaking  description  of  assets  and 
market  values  was  boring  her.  Once  her  voice 
rose  in  expostulation.  Torrence,  I  judged, 
was  suggesting  that  legal  means  could  be 
found  to  expel  the  old  Tyringham  employees 
from  the  Barton  property. 

"Oh,  never  in  the  world!  It  was  quite 
like  Mr.  Bashford  to  want  to  care  for  these 
people  in  their  old  age.  And" — she  laughed 
and  turned  toward  me — "they  can't  be  dis 
lodged  while  Bob  lives;  and  we  don't  want 
to  part  with  him  just  yet." 

I  was  glad  to  have  him  hear  her  address 
me  in  this  intimate  fashion.  Torry  always 
inspired  in  me  a  desire  to  shock  him.  He 
was  trying  to  assure  Alice  that  his  only  con 
cern  was  to  make  her  comfortable;  he  wished 
to  save  her  from  every  annoyance  and  that 
sort  of  thing. 

"I  shall  help  Alice  to  break  them  in,  Torry," 
I  said,  lingering  upon  her  name  for  his  special 
edification. 

68 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

"Of  course,  Singleton,"  he  replied.  "I 
wasn't  sure  you  meant  to  stay  on.  Pardon 
me,  but  I  didn't " 

"Oh,  it  isn't  that  Bob  hasn't  a  right  to 
stay,"  said  Alice  quickly;  "Mrs.  Farnsworth 
and  I  are  hoping  that  he  will  like  us  well 
enough  to  share  our  exile  on  other  accounts. 
We  are  so  unfamiliar  with  everything  Amer 
ican  that  it  would  be  most  unkind  for  him 
to  desert  us." 

"I  am  engaging  Mr.  Singleton  to  explain 
American  jokes  to  me,"  announced  Mrs. 
Farnsworth.  "Alice  seems  to  get  them,  but 
I'm  never  sure." 

It  is  a  part  of  Torrence's  business  to 
counsel  widows,  which  he  does  like  the  hon 
orable  man  he  is,  but  as  he  rose  to  go  pres 
ently,  remarking  that  his  wife  would  motor 
down  to  call  shortly,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of 
his  face  that  indicated  deep  perplexity.  I 
wanted  to  warn  him  that  Alice  Bashford  was 
not  an  ordinary  widow,  who  vexes  officers  of 
trust  companies  with  foolish  questions  and 
is  prone  to  overdraw  her  account,  so  I  left 
when  he  did. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you,"  he  said  nervously 
69 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

when  we  were  outside.     "I'll  send  the  car 
ahead  to  the  gate." 

When  the  shrubbery  cut  us  off  from  the 
house  he  stopped  abruptly  and  seized  my  arm. 
"What  do  you  make  of  it?"  he  demanded. 

"Make  of  what?"  I  asked. 

"That  girl!"  he  exclaimed  testily. 

"If  you  insist,  I  must  avow  that  she's 
adorable,  nothing  else." 

"Don't  be  a  fool!  You  knew  Raymond 
Bashford  much  better  than  I  did,  and  you 
know  perfectly  well  he  never  married  a  young 
girl  of  that  sort !  Those  women  are  playing  a 
trick,  and  I'm  surprised  that  you  don't  see 
through  it." 

"My  uncle  was  a  man  of  taste  and  a  gentle 
man,"  I  answered  deliberately.  "There's 
nothing  in  the  least  improbable  in  his  being 
infatuated  with  a  young  woman  of  charm  and 
wit  like  this  girl.  And  it  is  hardly  profitable 
or  decent  to  speculate  as  to  her  interest  in 
him.  You  mustn't  forget  that  Uncle  Bash 
was  an  unusual  man,  a  man  with  whom  a 
young  girl  might  easily  fall  in  love  without 
reference  to  his  age  or  money  or  anything 
else." 

70 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

"I  tell  you  it  won't  do,"  he  insisted.  "If 
either  of  those  women  at  the  house  is  Ray 
mond  Bashford's  widow,  it's  the  one  who  calls 
herself  Farnsworth." 

"You  did  your  best  to  convict  them  of 
fraud  the  first  jump  out  of  the  box,"  I  said, 
laughing  at  the  recollection  of  his  confusion 
when  I  introduced  him. 

"My  mistake  was  a  natural  one,"  he  said 
defensively.  "They're  playing  a  game  of 
some  kind  and  it's  no  laughing  matter,  but 
it  won't  take  long  to  find  out  what  they're 
up  to." 

"You'll  hardly  go  the  length  of  having 
them  arrested  as  imposters,  Torrence — not 
without  some  data  to  work  on !" 

"Certainly  not.  You  seem  to  be  hitting  it 
off  with  both  of  them,  but  I  advise  you  to  be 
on  guard.  Are  you  sure  your  uncle  never 
sent  you  his  wife's  photograph  ?  That  would 
have  been  a  perfectly  natural  thing  to  do." 

"If  I'd  got  a  photograph,  I  should  have 
headed  for  Japan,  not  for  France."  I  laughed, 
but  I  was  thinking  deeply.  His  line  of  reason 
ing  as  to  the  incongruity  of  the  marriage  was 
not  so  different  from  my  own  that  I  could 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

sneer  at  his  suspicions.  Very  convincingly, 
as  became  a  practical-minded  man,  he  ex 
panded  his  views  as  to  the  unlikelihood  of 
my  uncle's  marrying  a  girl  but  little  beyond 
school  age.  I  shrank  from  telling  him  that 
I  didn't  care  a  hang  whether  the  widow  was 
a  fraud  or  not.  If  the  two  women  who  had 
settled  themselves  on  the  Barton  estate  were 
imposters,  they  were  extraordinarily  daring 
and  clever.  My  attitude  toward  them  was 
wholly  defensive.  If  women  of  their  quality 
were  perpetrating  a  fraud,  I  was  for  giving 
them  every  chance,  and  I  had  no  intention  of 
allowing  Torrence  to  spoil  the  unfolding  of 
the  conspiracy. 

We  were  nearing  a  gateway  where  his  car 
waited,  and  I  saw  several  of  the  guard  hang 
ing  about  at  a  discreet  distance.  "Look  here, 
Singleton,"  he  said  angrily,  "you  don't  seem 
to  take  this  business  very  seriously.  You 
don't  want  to  make  the  mistake  of  letting  a 
pretty  girl  pull  the  wool  over  your  eyes.  If 
we're  not  careful,  we're  all  of  us  likely  to  get 
into  trouble."  He  lowered  his  voice  and 
added  tensely:  "Those  women  are  under  sus 
picion  of  something  more  serious  than  an  at- 
72 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

tempt  to  rob  an  estate.  An  agent  of  the 
American  State  Department  called  on  me 
yesterday  and  asked  embarrassing  questions 
about  Mrs.  Bashford.  Not  a  Secret  Service 
man,  you  understand,  or  anything  of  that 
kind,  but  an  important  man  in  the  State  De 
partment." 

"Of  course  you  knew  nothing  to  tell,"  I 
suggested  as  he  beat  the  walk  impatiently 
with  his  stick. 

"I  took  a  chance  at  lying  to  him  about 
her  expected  arrival.  I  thought  it  only  decent 
to  have  a  look  at  the  woman  first.  He  told 
me  nothing  except  that  the  British  Embassy 
had  made  inquiries  and  that  the  matter  was 
delicate  and  must  be  handled  carefully." 

"Was  this  inquirer  lame — a  small  dark  man 
with  a  black  mustache?"  I  asked,  suddenly 
interested.  "Such  a  person  has  been  hanging 
about  here,  so  the  boys  tell  me?" 

"Not  at  all !  I  may  as  well  tell  you  it  was 
Raynor — you  probably  remember  him.  He's 
a  specialist  in  international  law,  and  they 
took  him  into  the  State  Department  just 
after  the  Lusitania  business.  He's  a  gentle 
man  and  a  good  fellow — I've  played  golf  with 
73 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

him  a  good  deal — and  I  hated  to  lie  to  him. 
Of  course,  with  the  whole  United  States  back 
of  him  he  can  pursue  his  inquiries  without 
my  help;  but  I  thought  I'd  see  this  woman 
before  telling  him  she  had  reached  America." 

I  confess  that  I  was  a  trifle  dismayed  by 
this.  Raynor  I  knew  slightly.  Professionally 
and  socially  he  stood  high,  and  even  without 
the  prestige  of  his  official  position  he  was  not 
a  chap  to  sneeze  at;  but  I  didn't  want  Tor- 
rence  to  know  I  had  any  doubts  as  to  the 
perfect  authenticity  of  my  uncle's  widow. 

"Oh,  every  transcontinental  pilgrim  is 
probably  scrutinized  closely  these  days,"  I 
remarked  carelessly.  "Mrs.  Bashford  has 
lost  a  brother  in  the  war,  and  I  haven't  heard 
any  one  talk  more  bitterly  against  Germany. 
And  her  companion  certainly  has  no  illusions 
about  the  Kaiser.  You'd  have  to  show  me 
the  proof  to  make  me  believe  we're  harbor 
ing  spies." 

"I  don't  like  the  business,"  he  declared 
stubbornly. 

"Let's  do  nothing  foolish,"  I  insisted.  "If 
Raynor  has  reason  to  suspect  either  or  both 
of  these  women,  we'll  hear  further  from  him." 
74 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

"I've  put  myself  in  a  hole,"  he  said  angrily. 
"Of  course  I've  got  to  advise  him  immediately 
that  Mrs.  Bashford  is  here.  I  promised  to 
let  him  know  as  soon  as  I  heard  from  her." 

"Just  wait  a  few  days;  I  undertake  to 
keep  them  under  surveillance;  you  can  put 
the  whole  responsibility  on  me.  If  they  at 
tempt  to  leave,  I'll  warn  you  and  Raynor 
instantly,  but  they  have  settled  themselves 
as  though  they  expected  to  spend  the  rest 
of  their  lives  here.  Remembering  your  visit 
the  other  night,  you  ought  to  be  satisfied 
with  the  policing  of  the  place !" 

I  told  him  of  Mrs.  Bashford's  adventures 
in  reaching  the  house  without  convincing  him 
that  there  was  anything  funny  in  her  experi 
ences,  and  he  left  on  my  promise  to  report  to 
him  daily  at  a  given  hour  and  instantly  if 
anything  unusual  occurred.  I  waited  for  the 
guards  to  lock  the  gates  and  bade  them  keep 
watch  every  night  until  further  orders,  and 
was  on  my  way  back  through  the  grounds 
when  Antoine  arrested  me. 

"Pardon  me,  but  I'd  like  to  ask  what  you 
think  of  it,  sir?"  he  asked  hoarsely,  falling 
into  step. 

75 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

"If  you  mean  what  do  I  think  of  Mrs. 
Bashford,"  I  replied  sharply,  "I  think  she's 
quite  charming  and  delightful  and  all  any 
one  could  ask  in  every  way." 

"It's  her  manner  of  speaking  of  spookish 
things,  Mr.  Singleton.  It  doesn't  seem  fitting 
in  a  widow  and  her  so  lately  bereaved.  And 
the  older  lady's  quite  as  bad,  sir.  The  maids 
tell  me  they  keep  talking  all  day  about  fairies 
and  pretending  they're  queens  and  such  like, 
and  talking  poetry  to  each  other." 

"Quoting  poetry  is  a  harmless  amusement, 
Antoine,  and  believing  in  fairies  and  goblins 
is  no  crime.  Such  pastimes  argue  for  sweet 
ness  and  innocence  of  character." 

"But  the  late  master  never  indulged  in 
such  things,  sir." 

"He  would  have  lived  longer  if  he  had! 
It  was  probably  the  poetry  and  fairies  that 
attracted  him  to  Mrs.  Bashford." 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  acquiesced  with  a  gulp.  "I 
suppose  you're  right,  sir." 

"You  should  be  grateful  to  Mrs.  Bashford 
for  not  bouncing  you  all  for  the  row  you  made 
last  night.  It  could  be  done;  in  fact,  Mr. 
Torrence  has  suggested  that  legal  means 
could  be  found  for  getting  rid  of  you." 
76 


THE  AMAZING  WIDOW 

"That  would  be  very  sad,  sir,"  he  said 
humbly. 

"Isn't  Mrs.  Bashford  kind  to  you  ?  Hasn't 
she  taken  pains  to  make  you  all  feel  at  home  ?  " 

"Well,  yes,  sir.  But  she's  taken  Elsie 
back  into  the  house,  and  there's  no  work  for 
her,  there  being  two  women  in  the  laundry 
already;  and  she's  told  me  Dutch  must  be 
given  his  old  place  in  charge  of  the  poultry; 
and  both  being  Germans,  you  will  recall." 

"It's  just  her  kind  heart,  you  idiot! 
You've  all  been  spoiled;  that's  what's  the 
matter  with  you.  Elsie  and  Dutch  are  as 
law-abiding  and  honest  as  the  best  of  you." 

"It  causes  feeling;   that's  all,  sir." 

"It  needn't  cause  it  if  you  brace  up  and 
act  like  a  man,"  I  retorted.  Then,  sorry  I 
had  been  so  harsh,  I  added:  "We  must  take 
good  care  of  Mrs.  Bashford,  Antoine.  It 
would  be  your  old  master's  wish.  It  will  do 
no  harm  to  keep  a  guard  at  the  house  for  the 
present  in  case  your  mysterious  stranger 
turns  up  again." 

He  couldn't  have  failed  to  note  my  change 
of  tone  about  the  unknown  visitor,  but  he 
made  no  comment. 

77 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

"The  guard's  set,  sir;  front  and  rear." 

"While  there's  no  danger  whatever  it's 
just  as  well  to  take  no  chances.  Please  tell 
the  boys  to  send  for  me  immediately  at  any 
hour  of  the  night  if  they  see  any  prowlers 
about." 

"Very  good,  sir.  But  if  you  please,  sir"- 
he  had  reached  the  garage  and  he  lingered, 
fingering  his  hat  nervously — "if  it  wasn't  for 
the  ladies  talking  about  spirits,  we'd  all  feel 
better,  sir.  It's  creepy,  sir,  all  the  talk  about 
witches  and  ghosts,  no  matter  what  names 
you  call  'em  by." 

"You're  far  from  being  a  fool,  Antoine. 
Those  ladies  just  play  at  believing  in  such 
rubbish.  If  they  really  believed  in  ghosts, 
you  may  be  sure  they  wouldn't  talk  about  it 
at  table  before  strangers  like  you  and  me." 

Though  this  seemed  to  impress  him,  a  mo 
ment  later,  as  I  was  drawing  down  the  shades 
in  my  bedroom,  I  saw  him  running  across 
the  lawn  like  a  frightened  rabbit. 


CHAPTER  III 
A  FAN 

THE  morning  mail  brought  a  letter  from 
Searles  acknowledging  my  congratula 
tions  on  his  play.  While  my  enthusiastic 
praise  pleased  him,  he  was  very  scornful  of 
my  suggestions  about  available  stars,  and 
seemed  even  more  depressed  than  when  he 
talked  to  me. 

"It's  impossible  for  me  to  plan  other  work. 
'Lady  Larkspur'  ate  the  soul  out  of  me.  I'm 
done;  finished,  clean  out  of  the  running. 
There's  only  this  to  report.  I  had  a  letter 
from  Dalton  saying  that  some  time  ago  he 
asked  at  the  hotel  where  he  sent  the  script 
of  'Lady  Larkspur'  to  know  whether  Miss 
Dewing  had  sent  a  forwarding  address.  He 
had  to  see  the  manager  before  he  got  any 
satisfaction,  but  he  did  learn  that  her  accu 
mulated  mail  had  been  called  for  by  some 
one  whose  identity  was  not  disclosed.  Of 
course  this  isn't  much  to  hang  a  hope  on,  but 
if  that  play  is  what  I  think  it  is  and  Miss 
79 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

Violet  Dewing  ever  reads  it  she's  going  to 
jump  for  the  telegraph  office  the  moment  she 
finishes  the  last  act.  I  have  no  plans  for  re 
turning  East;  the  folks  at  home  let  me  do  as 
I  please,  and  it's  a  relief  to  be  in  seclusion 
where  I  hear  nothing  of  the  doings  of  Broad 
way.  I  hope  your  ancient  globe-trotting 
aunt  still  lingers  in  the  Far  East !  Keep  the 
ink  flowing,  son.  That  novel  ought  to  be 
well  under  way  when  I  get  back." 

The  tale  I  had  begun  seemed  utter  trash 
in  comparison  with  the  story  of  Alice  Bash- 
ford,  in  which,  much  against  my  will,  I  had 
become  a  minor  character.  I  had  rather 
prided  myself  on  my  ability  to  see  through 
a  plot  in  the  first  chapter  of  the  most  com 
plicated  mystery  story,  but  there  were  points 
in  this  unwritten  tale  that  baffled  me. 

I  kept  away  from  the  house  until  dinner 
time,  when  I  was  received  quite  as  an  old 
friend  by  Alice  and  Mrs.  Farnsworth.  The 
table  talk  was  of  Celtic  poetry,  and  proved 
less  disturbing  to  Antoine  than  the  previous 
night's  discussion  of  ghosts. 

Their  day  had  been  spent,  they  explained, 
in  a  further  examination  of  my  uncle's  Japa- 
80 


A  FAN 

nese  loot,  and  they  had  taken  a  long  walk 
beyond  the  estate's  boundaries  and  were 
enthusiastic  about  the  landscape. 

"It's  so  beautifully  peaceful  all  about 
here,"  Alice  murmured.  "I  feel  that  I  never 
want  to  move  again." 

"That's  a  real  tribute  to  America,"  Mrs. 
Farnsworth  remarked;  "for  Alice  dearly 
loves  new  scenes.  She  inherited  a  taste  for 
travel  from  her  father,  who  put  some  new 
places  on  the  maps,  you  know." 

I  didn't  know  and  I  wanted  to  ask  ques 
tions  about  Alice's  father,  but  as  though 
anxious  to  frustrate  such  inquiries  my  aunt 
asked  how  close  we  were  to  the  place  made 
famous  by  Israel  Putnam's  spectacular  escape 
from  the  British.  She  had  read  the  story 
and  would  motor  to  the  scene,  she  declared. 
It  was  quite  clear  that  there  were  chapters 
in  her  life  that  were  not  to  be  opened  for  my 
perusal.  No  sooner  had  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  promising  page  than  the  book  was  politely 
closed.  A  curtain  hung  between  the  imme 
diate  present  at  Barton-on-the-Sound  and 
other  scenes  and  incidents  of  the  girl's  life; 
and  Mrs.  Farnsworth  was  equally  detached 
81 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

from  any  tangible  background.  It  seemed 
that  I  might  meet  them  daily  for  the  rest  of 
my  life  in  this  same  friendly  fashion  without 
adding  a  particle  to  my  knowledge  of  them. 

I  became  alert  immediately  when,  as  we 
rose  from  the  table,  Alice  said,  with  the  air 
of  asking  an  unimportant  favor: 

"We  were  speaking  last  night  of  a  man 
who  has  been  asking  for  us  here.  His  visits 
have  alarmed  the  servants,  but  there  is  noth 
ing  to  fear  from  him.  You  know" — she  smiled 
at  Mrs.  Farnsworth — "it's  rather  he  who 
seems  to  fear  us;  that,  at  least,  is  our  im 
pression,  though  we  have  no  idea  why  he 
should  do  s<  .  Still,  it's  rather  good  fun  to 
find  yourself  an  object  of  special  attention 
and  to  be  followed,  even  pursued.  We've 
even  led  him  on  a  little,  haven't  we,  Con 
stance?" 

Mrs.  Farnsworth  laughingly  admitted  that 
they  had  led  the  gentleman  on  a  trifle,  "but 
with  all  circumspection,"  she  protested. 

"We  met  him  here  and  there  in  Tokyo,  and 
later  were  surprised  to  find  him  crossing  on 
our  steamer.  We  threw  him  off  in  the  Cana 
dian  Rockies,  where  we  stopped  for  a  day, 
82 


A  FAN 

and  eluded  him  in  Chicago,  where  he  was 
evidently  lying  in  wait  for  us." 

" Delightful!"  I  exclaimed. 

"But  please  don't  get  the  idea  that  the 
man  annoys  us,"  interposed  Mrs.  Farnsworth. 

"Far  from  it! "  cried  Alice. 

"You've  seen  enough  of  us  perhaps  to  un 
derstand  that  we  enjoy  little  adventures,"  said 
Mrs.  Farnsworth.  "The  man  pretends  to  be 
interested  in  Mr.  Bashford's  art  treasures. 
Antoine's  story  about  the  disguise  is  rather 
against  that;  but  we  will  give  him  the  benefit 
of  the  doubt.  What  we  are  hoping  is  that 
something  really  amusing  may  come  of  his 
persistent  pursuit.  With  you  and  the  army  of 
servants  here  we  feel  perfectly  safe;  so  we're 
for  giving  him  every  chance  to  show  his  hand." 

"He  is  the  Count  Giuseppe  Montani,"  said 
my  aunt,  "who  represents  himself  as  a  con 
noisseur — a  lover  of  the  beautiful." 

"The  mystery  is  solved  !  It  is  easy  to  un 
derstand  why  he  has  haunted  the  place." 

"Yes;  quite  easy.  Count  Montani  is  very 
anxious  to  see  the  porcelains." 

"I  wasn't  referring  to  the  pottery;   but  I 
shan't  press  the  matter." 
83 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

"I  advise  you  not  to;  your  remark  was 
highly  improper  from  a  nephew  to  an  aunt! 
I  have  told  you  about  all  I  know  of  this  Ital 
ian  gentleman.  I  am  going  to  ask  a  favor. 
He  telephoned  from  Stamford  this  afternoon 
to  know  whether  we  had  arrived,  and  I  bade 
him  call  to-night.  I  should  be  glad  if  you 
would  remain  until  he  leaves.  I  should  like 
to  know  what  you  make  of  him." 

"Certainly,"  I  assented,  pleased  that  she 
had  taken  me  into  her  confidence  and  deeply 
curious  as  to  the  Italian  connoisseur.  What 
she  had  told  so  frankly  and  plausibly  did  not, 
however,  touch  upon  the  matter  of  the  in 
terest  shown  by  the  American  State  Depart 
ment  in  my  aunt's  arrival  at  Barton,  which 
troubled  me  much  more  than  the  antics  of 
the  Italian  who  had  followed  the  women 
across  the  Pacific. 

Count  Montani  arrived  shortly  and  was 
received  in  the  drawing-room.  The  ladies 
greeted  him  with  the  greatest  cordiality.  As 
he  crossed  the  room  I  verified  the  limp  and 
other  points  of  Antoine's  description.  His 
bearing  was  that  of  a  gentleman;  and  in  his 
very  correct  evening  dress  he  hardly  looked 
84 


A  FAN 

like  a  man  who  would  disguise  himself  and 
attempt  to  rob  a  house.  He  spoke  English 
all  but  perfectly  and  proceeded  at  once  to 
talk  a  great  deal. 

"I  was  sad  when  I  found  I  had  so  narrowly 
missed  you  at  Seattle,  and  again  at  Chicago. 
You  travel  far  too  rapidly  for  one  of  my 
age!" 

His  age  might  have  been  thirty.  He  was 
a  suave,  polished,  sophisticated  person. 
Nothing  was  more  natural  than  that  he 
should  pause  in  his  travels  to  call  upon  two 
agreeable  women  he  had  met  on  a  Pacific 
steamer.  Possibly  he  was  in  love  with  Alice 
Bashford;  this  was  not  a  difficult  state  of 
heart  a,nd  mind  for  a  man  to  argue  himself 
into.  She  was  even  more  strikingly  beautiful 
to-night  than  I  had  thought  her  before.  She 
was  again  in  white — it  was  only  in  daytime 
that  she  wore  black — and  white  was  exceed 
ingly  becoming  to  her.  As  we  talked  she 
plied  listlessly  a  fan — a  handsome  trinket  of 
ostrich  plumes.  A  pretty  woman  and  a  fan 
are  the  happiest  possible  combination.  There 
is  no  severer  test  of  grace  than  a  woman's 
manner  of  using  a  fan.  A  clumsy  woman 
85 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

makes  an  implement  of  this  plaything,  flour 
ishing  it  to  emphasize  her  talk,  or,  what  is 
worse,  pointing  with  it  like  an  instructor 
before  a  blackboard.  But  in  graceful  hands 
it  is  unobtrusive,  a  mere  bit  of  decoration 
that  teases  and  fascinates  the  beholder's  eye. 
With  all  his  poise  and  equanimity  I  was 
distinctly  conscious  that  Montani's  dark  eyes 
were  intent  upon  the  idly  swaying  fan.  I 
thought  at  first  it  was  her  hands  that  in 
terested  him  as  they  unfailingly  interested 
me,  but  when,  from  time  to  time,  she  put 
down  the  fan  his  gaze  still  followed  it.  And 
yet  there  was  nothing  novel  in  the  delicate 
combination  of  ivory  and  feathers.  I  had 
seen  many  fans  that  to  all  appearances  were 
just  like  it.  Once,  as  she  picked  it  up  and 
lazily  opened  it,  I  saw  him  bend  forward 
eagerly,  then,  finding  that  I  had  noted  his 
eagerness,  he  rose,  pretending  that  a  brass 
screen  before  the  fireplace  had  caught  his 
eye  and  asked  whether  it  was  not  a  Florentine 
production,  which  shook  my  faith  in  his 
connoisseurship,  as  I  had  bought  the  thing 
myself  from  a  New  York  brassworker  who 
had  made  it  to  my  order. 
86 


A  FAN 

Montani  spoke  of  the  porcelains.  "Oh,  to 
be  sure !  They  don't  show  to  best  advantage 
in  electric  light,  do  they?  But  I  can  have  a 
few  of  the  prize  pieces  taken  into  the  dining- 
room,"  said  Alice. 

Mrs.  Farnsworth  had  excused  herself  to 
finish  a  letter,  and  from  my  chair  I  could  see 
her  head  bent  over  the  big  desk  in  the  library. 
Alice  rang  for  Antoine,  and  I  followed  her 
into  the  hall  to  offer  my  aid. 

"Oh,  don't  trouble,"  she  said.  "Antoine 
can  do  anything  necessary.  Yes;  thanks; 
if  you  will  turn  on  the  dining-room  lights." 

I  was  gone  hardly  half  a  minute.  When 
I  reached  the  drawing-room  door  Montani 
had  crossed  the  room  to  the  table  on  which 
Alice  had  dropped  the  fan  and  was  examining 
it  closely.  He  faced  the  door,  and  the  mo 
ment  he  detected  me  exclaimed  carelessly: 
"An  exquisite  little  bauble!  I  am  always 
curious  as  to  the  source  of  such  trifles.  I  was 
looking  for  the  maker's  imprimatur.  I  know 
a  Parisian  who  is  the  leading  manufacturer 
of  the  world.  But  it  is  not  his,  I  see." 

As  we  stood  talking  of  other  things  he 
plied  the  fan  carelessly  as  though  for  the 
8? 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

pleasure  of  the  faint  scent  it  exhaled,  and 
when  Alice  called  us  he  put  it  down  carefully 
where  he  had  found  it. 

He  really  did  seem  to  know  something 
about  ceramics  and  praised,  with  lively  en 
thusiasm,  the  pieces  that  had  been  set  out 
on  the  table.  One  piece,  as  to  whose  au 
thenticity  my  uncle  had  entertained  serious 
doubts,  Montani  unhesitatingly  pronounced 
genuine  and  stated  very  plausible  reasons 
for  his  opinion. 

On  the  whole,  he  was  an  interesting  fellow. 
When  he  had  finished  his  inspections  he  lin 
gered  for  only  a  few  minutes  and  took  his 
leave,  saying  that  he  was  spending  the  night 
at  an  inn  near  Stamford. 

"Well,"  said  Alice  when  the  whir  of  his 
machine  had  died  away,  "what  do  you  think 
of  him?" 

"A  very  agreeable  gentleman,"  I  answered. 
"If  he  doesn't  know  porcelains,  he  fakes  his 
talk  admirably." 

"And  as  to  fans — "  suggested  Mrs.  Farns- 
worth. 

I  had  not  intended  to  mention  Montani's 
interest  in  Alice's  fan,  and  the  remark  sur 
prised  me. 

88  '- 


A  FAN 

"Oh,  I  saw  it  all  from  the  library,"  laughed 
Mrs.  Farnsworth.  "My  back  was  to  the 
door,  but  I  was  facing  a  mirror.  The  moment 
you  and  Alice  went  into  the  hall  he  pounced 
upon  the  fan — pounced  is  the  only  word  that 
describes  it.  He  concealed  his  interest  in  it 
very  neatly  when  you  caught  him  examining 
it." 

"Fans  are  harmless  things,"  said  Alice, 
"and  if  there's  any  story  attached  to  this 
one  I'm  not  aware  of  it.  My  father  bought 
it  in  Paris  about  three  years  ago,  and  it  has 
never  been  out  of  my  possession  except  to 
have  it  repaired.  There's  a  Japanese  jeweller 
who  does  wonderful  things  in  the  way  of  re 
pairing  trinkets  of  every  kind.  I  left  it  with 
him  for  a  few  days.  I  can't  tell  now  which 
panel  was  broken,  he  did  his  work  so  deftly." 

I  took  it  from  her  and  balanced  it  in  my 
fingers.  It  was  a  beautiful  piece  of  workman 
ship  with  the  simplest  carvings  on  the  ivory 
panels. 

"He  couldn't  have  seen  it  anywhere  be 
fore  to-night,"  observed  Alice  musingly.  "In 
fact,  I  hadn't  used  it  at  all  for  a  year.  It 
was  really  by  mistake  that  my  maid  put  it 
into  my  trunk  when  I  went  to  Japan.  I  didn't 
89 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

want  to  risk  breaking  it  again,  so  I've  been 
carrying  it  in  a  hand-bag.  The  last  day  we 
were  in  Tokyo  I  think  I  had  it  in  our  sitting- 
room  in  the  hotel,  to  make  sure  it  wasn't 
jammed  into  the  trunk  again.  We  had  a 
good  many  callers — a  number  of  people  came 
in  to  bid  us  good-by,  but  I'm  sure  Count 
Montani  was  not  among  them,  and  it  would 
have  been  impossible  for  him  to  see  it  at  any 
other  time." 

"Oh,  there  is  nothing  disturbing  in  the 
count's  interest  in  the  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Farns- 
worth  with  an  air  of  dismissing  the  matter. 
"If  it  were  a  jade  trinket  inscribed  with 
Chinese  mysteries,  you  might  imagine  that 
it  would  be  sought  by  some  one — I  have 
heard  of  such  things — but  Alice's  fan  has  no 
such  history." 

"We  weren't  very  hospitable,"  said  Alice. 
"I  might  have  asked  Count  Montani  to 
dine  with  us  to-morrow;  and  we  might  even 
have  put  him  up  for  the  night  in  this  vast 
house." 

"Not  with  Antoine  on  the  premises!"  I 
exclaimed.  "Antoine  is  convinced  that  the 
man  is  what  we  call  in  America  a  crook.  And 
90 


A   FAN 

Antoine  takes  his  responsibilities  very  se 
riously." 

While  I  was  breakfasting  at  the  garage  the 
next  morning  Antoine  appeared  and,  waiting 
until  Flynn  was  out  of  hearing,  handed  me 
a  slip  of  paper. 

"That's  a  New  York  automobile  number," 
he  said.  "It  was  on  the  tag  of  that  machine 
the  party  came  in  last  night.  I  heard  him 
saying,  sir,  as  how  he  had  motored  up  from 
the  Elkton  Inn  at  Stamford.  Visitors  from 
Stamford  would  hardly  send  in  to  the  city 
for  a  machine." 

I  bade  him  wait  while  I  called  the  Elkton 
by  telephone.  No  such  person  as  Giuseppe 
Montani  had  spent  the  night  there  or  had 
been  a  guest  of  the  house  within  the  memory 
of  the  clerk.  Antoine's  chest  swelled  at  this 
confirmation  of  his  suspicions. 

"If  the  man  returns,  treat  him  as  you  did 
last  night — as  though  he  were  entitled  to  the 
highest  consideration." 

"He  won't  come  back — not  the  same  way," 
said  Antoine.  "He  mentioned  the  Elkton 
just  to  throw  you  off.  The  next  you  hear 
of  him  will  be  quite  different." 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

"You  mean  he'll  come  as  a  burglar?" 

"That's  what's  in  my  mind,  Mr.  Singleton. 
Everything  seems  very  queer,  sir." 

"Such  as  what,  Antoine?" 

"The  widow  has  been  telegraphing  and 
telephoning  considerable,  sir." 

"There  must  be  no  spying  upon  these 
ladies!"  I  admonished  severely.  "All  the 
people  on  the  place  must  remember  that 
Mrs.  Bashford  is  mistress  here,  and  entitled 
to  fullest  respect." 

He  had  hardly  gone  before  Torrence  had 
me  on  the  wire  to  hear  my  report  and  to  say 
that  Raynor  had  left  Washington  for  a  week 
end  in  Virginia. 

"That  lets  us  out  for  a  few  days,  but  I'll 
have  to  report  that  Mrs.  Bashford  is  at  Bar 
ton  the  moment  I  learn  that  he  is  back  in 
Washington." 

I  assured  him  that  nothing  had  occurred 
to  encourage  a  suspicion  that  Mrs.  Bashford 
was  not  all  that  she  pretended  to  be.  The 
day  was  marked  by  unusual  activities  on  the 
part  of  the  waiters  and  bell-hops.  Instead 
of  the  company  drills  to  which  I  had  become 
accustomed  they  moved  about  in  pairs  along 
92 


A  FAN 

the  shore  and  the  lines  of  the  fences.  I 
learned  that  Antoine  had  ordered  this,  and 
the  "troops"  were  obeying  him  with  the  ut 
most  seriousness.  The  "service"  on  the 
estate  was  certainly  abundant.  It  was  only 
necessary  to  whistle  and  one  of  the  Tyring- 
ham  veterans  would  come  running. 

In  spite  of  the  complete  satisfaction  I  had 
expressed  to  Torrence  as  to  the  perfect  in 
tegrity  and  honest  intentions  of  the  two 
women,  the  curiosity  of  the  American  State 
Department  and  the  visit  of  Montani  re 
quired  elucidation  beyond  my  powers.  At 
dinner  they  were  in  the  merriest  humor.  The 
performances  of  the  little  army  throughout 
the  day  had  amused  them  greatly. 

"How  delightfully  feudal!"  exclaimed 
Alice.  "Really  we  should  have  a  moat  and 
drawbridge  to  make  the  thing  perfect.  Con 
stance  and  I  are  the  best  protected  women 
in  the  world ! " 

We  extracted  all  the  fun  possible  from  the 
idea  that  the  estate  was  under  siege;  that 
Alice  was  the  chatelaine  of  a  beleaguered 
castle,  and  that  before  help  could  reach  us 
we  were  in  danger  of  being  starved  out  by 
93 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

the  enemy.  They  called  into  play  the  poetry 
which  had  so  roused  Antoine's  apprehensions, 
and  their  talk  bristled  with  quotations.  Alice 
rose  after  the  salad  and  repeated  at  least  a 
page  of  Malory,  and  the  Knights  of  the  Round 
Table  having  thus  been  introduced,  Mrs. 
Farnsworth  recited  several  sonorous  passages 
from  "The  Idyls  of  the  King."  They  flung 
lines  from  Browning's  "In  a  Balcony"  at 
each  other  as  though  they  were  improvising. 
The  befuddlement  of  Antoine  and  the  waiter 
who  assisted  him  added  to  the  general  joy. 
They  undoubtedly  thought  the  two  women 
quite  out  of  their  heads,  and  it  was  plain 
that  I  suffered  greatly  in  Antoine's  estima 
tion  by  my  encouragement  of  this  frivolity. 
Mrs.  Farnsworth  walked  majestically  round 
the  table  and  addressed  to  me  the  lines  from 
Macbeth  beginning: 

"Glamis  thou  art,  and  Cawdor;  and  shalt  be 
What  thou  art  promised," 

while  Antoine  clung  to  the  sideboard  listen 
ing  with  mouth  open  and  eyes  rolling. 

Later,  in  the  living-room,  Alice  sang  some 
old  ballads.     She  was  more  adorable  than 
94 


A  FAN 

ever  at  the  piano.  It  was  a  happiness  be 
yond  any  in  my  experience  of  women  to  watch 
her,  to  note  the  play  of  light  upon  her  golden 
head,  to  yield  to  the  spell  of  her  voice.  Bal 
lads  had  never  been  sung  before  with  the 
charm  and  feeling  she  put  into  them;  and 
after  ending  with  "Douglas,  Douglas,"  she 
responded  to  my  importunity  with  "Ben 
Bolt,"  and  then  dashed  into  a  sparkling  thing 
of  Chopin's,  played  it  brilliantly  and  rose, 
laughingly  mocking  my  applause. 

I  left  the  house  like  a  man  over  whom  an 
enchantment  has  been  spoken  and  was  not 
pleased  when  Antoine  blocked  my  path: 
"Pardon  me,  sir." 

"Bother  my  pardon;  what's  troubling 
you  now?"  I  demanded. 

"It's  nothing  troubling  me,  sir;  not  par 
ticularly.  If  you  give  me  time,  I  think  I'll 
grow  used  to  the  poetry  talk  and  playing  at 
being  queens.  It's  like  children  in  a  family 
I  served  once;  an  English  family,  most  re 
spectable.  But  in  a  widow,  sir 

"God  knows  we  ought  to  be  glad  when 
grown-ups  have  the  heart  to  play  at  being 
children  and  can  get  away  with  it  as  beauti- 
95 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

fully  as  those  women  do!    What  else  is  on 
your  mind?" 

"It's  about  Elsie,  sir."  I  groaned  ajt  the 
mention  of  Flynn's  German  wife.  "I'm 
sorry,  sir;  but  I  thought  I  should  report  it. 
It  was  a  man  who  came  to.  see  her  this  after 
noon.  You  was  out  for  your  walk,  and  Flynn 
had  taken  the  ladies,  for  a  drive,  so  Elsie  was 
alone  at  the  garage.  This  person  rode  in  on 
the  grocer's  truck  from  the  village,  which 
is  how  he  got  by  the  gate.  As  it  happened, 
Pierre — he  was  a  waiter  at  the  Tyringham, 
a  Swiss,  who  understands  German — had  gone 
into  the  garage  for  a  nap;  he's  quite  old,  sir, 
and  has  his  snooze  every  afternoon." 

"He's  entitled  to  it,"  I  remarked;  "he 
must  be  a  thousand  years  old." 

"From  what  he  heard  Pierre  thought  the 
man  a  spy,  sir.  He  wanted  Elsie  to  steal 
something  from  the  house,  it  was  a  fan  he 
wanted  her  to  take  most  particular,  and  it 
was  to  be  done  soon,  to-day  if  she  could 
manage.  It  was  for  the  love  of  the  Father 
land  that  he  wanted  her  to  do  it.  Did  you 
notice,  sir,  that  Mrs.  Bashford  didn't  have 
the  fan  to-night?  Not  that  one  she  carried 
last  night." 

96 


A  FAN 

I  had  noticed  that  she  had  substituted  a 
tiny  Japanese  fan  for  the  one  that  Montani 
had  inspected  so  eagerly.  When  I  spoke  of 
the  change  she  had  said  the  other  was  too 
precious  for  every-day  use,  and  she  meant  to 
keep  it  locked  up. 

"I  hate  to  bother  you,  sir,  knowing 
you ' 

The  mention  of  the  fan  had  brought  me 
to  an  abrupt  halt.  I  resented  having  the 
thing  thrust  at  me  in  the  ecstatic  mood  in 
which  I  had  left  the  house,  but  the  visit  of 
the  German-speaking  stranger  was  serious, 
and  Antoine  knew  that  his  story  had  startled 
me.  He  told  me  further  that  the  man  had 
carefully  outlined  to  Elsie  just  how  she  could 
take  advantage  of  her  freedom  of  the  house 
to  appropriate  the  fan  when  the  ladies  were 
out  and  the  servants  off  the  second  floor. 
She  was  to  be  paid  for  her  assistance;  two 
hundred  dollars  had  been  promised;  even 
more  had  been  suggested.  Elsie  and  the 
stranger  had  left  the  garage  and  passed  out 
of  ear-shot  before  Elsie  fully  consented;  but 
Pierre  had  given  Antoine  the  impression  that 
she  would  make  the  attempt. 

"It  was  to  be  for  the  Kaiser,  for  Germany," 
97 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

declared  Antoine  bitterly.  "And  she  was  to 
be  careful  about  Flynn.  I  always  thought 
Flynn  was  straight — I  did  indeed,  sir!" 

"I  think  Flynn  and  his  wife  are  both 
honest,  but  we'll  take  no  chance.  Warn  the 
guards  to  be  on  the  alert.  We  don't  want 
Elsie  to  get  the  idea  that  she's  being  watched; 
so  tell  the  men  to  keep  away  from  the 
garage.  I'll  keep  an  eye  on  the  Flynns.  You 
go  home  and  go  to  bed.  .  .  ." 

The  deep  calm  of  the  country  night  had 
settled  upon  the  shore,  and  the  Flynns'  quar 
ters  were  perfectly  tranquil.  It  didn't  seem 
possible  that  an  international  episode  was  in 
process  of  incubation  in  that  quiet  neighbor 
hood.  I  began  to  think  that  the  general  dis 
trust  of  the  German  woman  by  her  associates 
might  be  responsible  for  Pierre's  story.  But, 
viewed  in  any  light,  I  had  a  duty  to  perform. 
If  Elsie  had  visited  the  house  and  purloined 
the  fan,  she  would  be  very  likely  to  get  rid 
of  it  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  I  determined 
to  keep  watch.  I  drew  the  blinds,  got  into 
my  dressing-gown  and,  reinforcing  the  lamp 
shade  with  a  newspaper  to  deaden  the  light, 
proceeded  to  read. 

98 


A  FAN 

It  was  on  toward  one  o'clock  and  I  was 
dozing  when  a  sound  roused  me.  A  door  on 
the  Flynn  side  of  the  hall  creaked;  there 
was  silence,  then  I  heard  furtive  steps  on 
the  stair.  I  snapped  out  my  light  and  peered 
out  of  the  window  just  as  Elsie's  robust  figure 
disappeared  into  the  shadows.  I  was  about 
to  follow  when  the  creaking  of  the  Flynn 
door  was  repeated.  In  a  moment  another 
peep  through  the  shade  showed  me  Flynn 
himself,  and  he,  too,  quickly  vanished.  Here 
was  a  situation  indeed !  If  Elsie  was  keeping 
tryst  with  her  co-conspirator  of  the  afternoon 
and  her  husband  was  spying  upon  her,  a  row 
of  large  proportions  was  likely  to  result  at 
any  moment.  I  leaned  from  the  window  as 
far  as  I  dared,  and  saw  the  woman  close  to 
the  wall  at  the  farther  end  of  the  building. 
The  scene  was  well  set  for  trouble,  and  I  was 
wondering  what  I  could  do  to  avert  a  dis 
turbance  and  the  exposure  of  the  foolish 
woman  when  the  whole  matter  was  taken 
out  of  my  hands. 

"You  fool !  You  scoundrel !"  she  bellowed 
in  German.  "That  you  should  think  me  a 
plaything  to  commit  a  robbery  for  you  !  That 
99 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

I  should  steal  from  my  mistress  to  satisfy  you, 
you  piece  of  swine-flesh ! " 

I  had  often  heard  Elsie  vocally  disciplining 
her  Irish  husband  and  knew  the  power  of 
her  lungs  and  the  vigor  of  her  invective,  but 
she  seemed  bent  upon  apprising  the  whole 
commonwealth  of  Connecticut  of  the  fact 
that  she  was  vastly  displeased  with  the  person 
she  was  addressing,  who  was  certainly  not 
Flynn.  Amid  sounds  of  a  scuffle  and  the 
continuous  outpouring  of  billingsgate  the 
light  over  the  garage  door  flashed  on  sud 
denly  and  disclosed  Flynn  in  the  act  of  pre 
cipitating  himself  into  the  fray.  Elsie  had 
grasped,  and  was  stoutly  clinging  to  a  tall 
man  who  was  trying  to  free  himself  of  her 
muscular  embrace.  Her  cries  meanwhile  in 
cluded  some  of  the  raciest  terms  in  the  Ger 
man  dictionary  and  others — mouthfuls  of 
frightfulness — that  I  didn't  recognize. 

When  I  reached  the  open  Flynn  was  danc 
ing  round  the  belligerents  like  an  excited 
boxer,  occasionally  springing  in  to  land  a 
blow;  and  all  the  while  Elsie  continued  to 
address  her  captive  and  the  world  at  large 
in  her  native  tongue.  Flynn  was  rather  more 
100 


A   FAN 

than  sixty,  and  Elsie  was  not  much  his  junior, 
while  the  invader  was  young  and  agile.  The 
man  had  loosened  one  arm  and  drawn  a  re 
volver  with  which  he  was  pounding  Elsie  in 
the  face.  I  knocked  the  gun  from  his  hand 
with  my  walking-stick  and  shouted  to  Elsie 
to  let  go  of  him.  Her  shouts  had  roused  the 
guards  and,  hearing  answering  cries  and  the 
beat  of  hurrying  feet  on  the  walks,  he  re 
doubled  his  efforts  to  escape.  I  had  hardly 
got  my  hands  on  him  when  with  a  twist  of 
his  body  he  wrenched  himself  free  and  sped 
away  in  the  darkness. 

I  hadn't  gone  far  in  pursuit  of  him  before 
I  tripped  over  the  skirts  of  my  dressing-gown 
and  fell  into  a  bed  of  cannas.  This  would 
have  been  less  melancholy  if  Flynn,  hard  be 
hind,  hadn't  stumbled  over  me  and,  believing 
he  had  captured  the  enemy,  gripped  my  legs 
until  I  could  persuade  him  to  let  go. 

The  lights  now  flared  on  all  the  walks  and 
driveways,  and  Antoine  was  bellowing  orders 
to  the  guards  to  surround  the  sunken  garden. 
I  surmised  that  the  fugitive,  surprised  by  the 
attack,  had  lost  his  bearings  and  was  now  far 
from  the  boundary  wall  back  of  the  garage 
101 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

from  which  presumably  he  had  entered  the 
grounds.  With  the  Sound  cutting  off  his 
exit  beyond  the  residence,  there  was  a  fair 
chance  of  catching  him  if  Antoine's  veterans 
were  at  all  vigilant. 

I  found  Antoine,  armed  with  a  club  and 
swinging  a  lantern,  majestically  posed  at  the 
nearer  entrance  to  the  garden.  With  a  swal 
low-tail  coat  over  his  night-shirt  and  his 
nightcap  tipped  over  one  ear,  he  was  an  en 
thralling  figure.  As  he  strode  toward  me 
his  slippers  flapped  weirdly  upon  the  brick 
walk.  "There's  somebody  in  the  garden, 
sir,"  he  whispered  huskily.  "The  troops  has 
it  surrounded."  No  general  in  all  history, 
reporting  in  some  critical  hour  the  disposi 
tion  of  his  army,  could  have  been  more  com 
posed. 

"You  have  done  well,  Antoine.  Shall  you 
dig  in  until  morning  or  go  over  the  top 
now?" 

"As  you  say,  sir.  It's  better  you  should 
take  charge." 

I  walked  round  the  garden  and  found  his 
men  well  distributed,  but  the  old  fellows  were 
exceedingly  nervous.  "It's  a  bit  suspicious, 
102 


A  FAN 

sir,  that  he  broke  for  the  garden,"  remarked 
Antoine. 

"He  broke  for  the  garden,"  I  suggested, 
"because  his  line  of  retreat  was  cut  off  and 
he  had  to  go  somewhere." 

"It's  queer,  though,  sir,  when  Dutch  has 
been  sleeping  on  the  long  bench  down  there 
by  the  fountain.  You  know  how  we  feel  about 
him,  sir,  he  being  of  that  race." 

"Dutch  told  me  he  was  camping  in  the 
tool-house,"  I  answered. 

"The  boys  drove  him  out,  sir,  and  he  took 
to  the  garden." 

"Nasty  of  the  boys,  I  should  say.  If  that 
interloper  should  murder  him — 

A  yell  rose  from  the  midst  of  the  garden, 
followed  by  a  crash  and  an  instant  later  by 
a  splash  that  interrupted  another  yell.  I 
snatched  Antoine's  lantern  and  ran  down  the 
steps  toward  the  scene  of  commotion.  When 
I  reached  the  circular  pool  the  jet  was  still 
playing  gayly,  but  the  waters  on  one  side 
were  in  furious  agitation.  Two  men  were 
rolling  and  tumbling  about  as  though  bent 
upon  drowning  each  other.  I  swung  the 
lantern  over  them  just  as  Dutch  got  upon 
103 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

his  feet,  gripping  his  antagonist  by  the  collar. 
He  flung  him  backward  over  the  stone  curb 
ing  of  the  pool  and  fell  upon  him  in  the  walk 
with  a  swish  of  wet  garments.  The  guards 
from  the  outer  edges  of  the  garden  had  clam 
bered  down  and  they  gathered  about  us  as 
I  began  questioning  Dutch. 

Dutch,  undoubtedly  enjoying  his  victorious 
encounter,  was  tearing  open  the  prostrate 
captive's  collar  to  give  him  air  and  with  his 
knees  clamping  the  man's  body  was  disposed 
to  delay  the  story  of  his  adventures  to  in 
crease  its  dramatic  effect. 

"It  happens  this  evenin',"  he  began,  spout 
ing  water,  "that  I  seen  Elsie,  who's  been 
sneakin'  me  meals  to  the  old  stables,  an'  she 
says  to  me:  'Dutch/  she  says,  'they's  all 
ag'in  us  here,  callin'  us  Huns,  an'  we  gotta 
show  'em  we's  good  Americans,'  she  says. 
An'  she  tole  me  a  feller  been  to  see  'er  'at 
wanted  'er  to  rob  the  house  fer  'im,  he  think- 
in'  'er  likely  to  do  ut  fer  love  o'  the  Kaiser. 
She  said  as  'ow  she'd  nail  'im  when  he  comes 
to-night  to  git  a  fan  she's  promised  to  lift 
fer  'im.  She  said  that'd  prove  she  wasn't  no 
Dutchwoman  and  recommended  if  I  got  the 
104 


A   FAN 

chance  to  do  the  same.  I  thought  nothin' 
wuz  goin'  to  happen  an'  wuz  sleepin'  on  me 
bench  here  in  the  garden  when  the  hollerin' 
at  the  garage  woke  me  up.  I  sits  quiet, 
listenin'  an'  this  guy  drops  into  the  garden  an' 
wuz  crawlin'  past  me  bench  an'  I  pinches 
'im.  He  wuz  fer  havin'  a  fight,  an'  we  knocks 
over  one  of  the  big  urns  an'  lit  in  the  tank. 
He  says  it's  a  thousand  bones  an'  ye  turn  me 
loose,  he  says,  an'  I  soused  'im  ag'in  fer  that." 

The  man  was  still  choking  from  the  sous 
ings  and  Dutch  turned  him  over  and  pounded 
him  vigorously  on  the  back,  assisted  by  Zim 
merman,  the  obliging  valet,  who  had  seized 
the  occasion  to  show  his  hand  on  the  side  of 
the  Allies.  "Shall  I  telephone  for  the  Barton 
police,  sir?"  asked  Antoine  with  an  extreme 
exaggeration  of  his  professional  manner. 

This  obviously  was  the  thing  to  do,  but  I 
feigned  not  to  hear  the  question  while  I  de 
bated  the  matter.  It  was  plain  that  many 
things  relating  to  the  capture  were  veiled  in 
mystery:  that  if  Mrs.  Bashford  and  her  com 
panion  were  involved  in  an  international 
tangle  and  had  in  their  possession  something 
that  vitally  concerned  the  nations  at  war, 
105 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

common  chivalry  demanded  that  I  handle  the 
arrest  of  Montani's  agent  in  such  manner  as 
to  shield  them.  I  was  thinking  hard  and  in 
my  perplexity  even  considered  sending  a  mes 
senger  for  Torrence;  but  he  was  already  sus 
picious  and  would  be  very  likely  to  summon 
Raynor  immediately  and  precipitate  a  crisis 
I  was  not  prepared  to  face.  To  invite  the 
attention  of  the  American  State  Department 
to  the  increasingly  complex  situation  would 
not  be  giving  my  aunt  the  chance  I  meant 
she  should  have  to  clear  herself. 

The  captive  had  got  upon  his  feet  and 
stood  dazedly  staring  at  us.  He  refused  to 
answer  my  questions,  even  when  I  suggested 
that  if  he  could  give  a  satisfactory  account 
of  himself  he  would  be  released.  He  only 
doggedly  shook  his  head.  When  I  asked  if 
he  had  been  hurt  in  his  bout  with  Dutch  he 
smiled  and  extended  his  arms  hi  denial.  He 
was  a  very  decent-looking  fellow,  blue-eyed 
and  smooth-shaven,  who  seemed  to  accept 
his  plight  with  a  degree  of  good  humor. 

I  decided  that  as  nothing  would  be  gained 
by  sending  him  to  the  Barton  calaboose  that 
night,  I  would  assume  the  responsibility  of 
1 06 


A  FAN 

detaining  him  until  I  had  groped  my  way 
through  the  haze  of  suspicions  and  circum 
stances  that  enveloped  him. 

"Get  some  dry  clothes  for  this  man  and 
lock  him  up  in  the  tool-house.  Be  sure  he 
has  blankets,  and  you'd  better  give  him  some 
hot  coffee." 

The  captive  manifested  relief  at  my  de 
cision  and  broke  his  silence  to  thank  me, 
which  he  did  in  very  good  English.  His  sub- 
missiveness  only  deepened  my  perplexity,  but 
I  couldn't  help  laughing  as  he  walked  away 
surrounded  by  the  "troops,"  with  Dutch 
leading  the  way — Dutch  fully  conscious  that 
he  had  vindicated  himself  and  disposed  to  be 
rather  disdainful  of  his  comrades. 

I  hurried  to  the  house,  where  I  found  Alice 
and  Mrs.  Farnsworth  ministering  to  Elsie, 
who  had  been  taken  there  by  their  order. 
Elsie,  sharing  with  Dutch  the  honors  of  the 
night,  lay  on  a  davenport,  where  she  had 
received  first  aid.  Alice  rose  from  her  knees 
as  I  entered,  gathering  up  strips  of  bandages, 
and  turned  to  me  laughingly. 

"Elsie's  injuries  are  not  serious;  only  dis 
agreeable  bruises  in  the  face.  There  will  be 
107 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

no  scars,  I'm  sure.  We'll  keep  her  at  the 
house  for  a  few  days  until  she's  quite  fit 
again.  Surely  any  one  who  has  questioned 
Elsie's  loyalty  ought  to  be  satisfied  now." 

"You  certainly  managed  it  very  cleverly, 
Elsie.  We're  all  very  grateful." 

Elsie,  her  face  covered  with  bandages, 
acknowledged  my  thanks  by  wiggling  her 
foot. 

Mrs.  Farnsworth  said  she  would  put  Elsie 
to  bed.  Now,  I  thought,  Alice  would  make 
some  sign  if  she  knew  anything  that  would 
explain  Montani  and  the  prisoner  in  the  tool- 
house.  But  the  whole  affair  only  moved 
her  to  laughter  and  she  seemed  less  a  grown 
woman  than  ever  in  her  white  robe.  My 
efforts  to  impress  her  with  the  seriousness  of 
the  attempt  to  secure  the  fan  only  added  to 
her  delight. 

"How  droll!  How  very  droll!  You 
couldn't  possibly  have  arranged  anything 
that  would  please  me  more !  It's  delicious ! 
As  you  say  in  America,  it's  perfectly  killing ! " 

I  suggested  that  the  holding  of  a  prisoner 
without  process  of  law  might  present  embar 
rassments. 

108 


A  FAN 

"I  know,"  she  cried,  clapping  her  hands 
joyfully.  "You  mean  we  are  likely  to  bump 
into  dear  old  habeas  corpus  I  The  sheriff 
will  come  and  read  a  solemn  paper  to  you 
and  you  will  have  to  hie  you  to  court  and 
produce  the  body  of  the  prisoner.  That 
will  be  splendid!" 

"It  won't  be  so  funny  if— 

I  was  about  to  say  that  the  humor  of  the 
thing  would  be  spoiled  somewhat  if  she  were 
made  a  witness  and  there  proved  to  be  some 
thing  irregular  about  the  fan  which  had  caused 
all  the  trouble,  but  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  do 
it.  To  spoil  such  merriment  as  bubbled  in 
her  heart  would  be  cruel — an  atrocity  as 
base  as  snatching  a  plaything  from  a  joyous 
child. 

"Constance  and  I  so  love  the  unusual— 
and  it  is  so  hard  to  find ! "  she  continued. 
"And  yet  from  the  moment  I  reached  the 
gates  of  these  premises  things  have  happened ! 
Nothing  is  omitted  !  Strange  visitors;  fierce 
attacks  upon  our  guards,  and  still  the  mys 
tery  deepens  in  the  wee  sma'  hours,  with 
heroes  and  heroines  at  every  turn !  To  think 
that  that  absurd  little  Dutch  was  asleep  in 
109 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

the  garden  and  really  captured  the  spy  or 
whatever  he  is!  But  you  are  a  hero  too! 
You  shall  be  decorated!" 

She  walked  to  a  stand  and  pondered  a 
moment  before  a  vase  of  roses,  chose  a  long- 
stemmed  red  one  and  struck  me  lightly  across 
the  shoulder  with  it. 

"Arise,  sir  knight !  You  should  have  knelt, 
but  to  kneel  in  skirts  requires  practice;  you 
could  hardly  have  managed  in  that  monk's 
robe." 

I  couldn't  be  sure  whether  she  was  mock 
ing  me  or  whether  there  was  really  liking 
under  this  nonsense.  I  was  beyond  the  point 
of  being  impatient  with  her.  I  was  helpless 
in  her  hands;  she  would  do  with  me  as  she 
willed,  and  it  was  my  business  to  laugh  with 
her,  to  meet  her  as  best  I  could  in  the  realm 
of  folly. 

"You  must  go!"  she  exclaimed  suddenly. 
"Constance  will  be  calling  down  the  stairs  for 
me  in  a  moment." 

"To-morrow — "  I  began.  The  wistful  look 
she  had  at  tunes  came  into  her  eyes  as  she 
stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  playing  with 
the  flower. 

no 


A  FAN 

"To-morrow,"  she  repeated,  "and  then — 
to-morrow ! " 

"There  must  be  endless  to-morrows  for 
you  and  me,"  I  said,  and  took  the  flower 
from  her  hand.  The  revery  died  in  her  eyes, 
and  they  were  awake  with  reproach  and  dis 
missal.  At  the  door  I  looked  back.  She 
hadn't  moved  and  she  said,  very  quietly, 
but  smiling  a  little:  "Nothing  must  happen 
to  make  me  sorry  I  came.  Please  remem 
ber!" 


ITI 


CHAPTER  IV 
PURSUING   KNIGHTS 

I  DIDN'T  sleep  until  near  daybreak,  and 
was  aroused  at  nine  o'clock  by  Flynn, 
who  appeared  at  the  door  in  his  chauffeur's 
togs,  carrying  a  tray. 

"The  wife  didn't  come  back,  sorr,  but  I 
made  coffee  and  toast.  Sorry  to  waken  you, 
but  I'm  takin'  the  new  car  into  the  city." 

I  sat  up  and  rubbed  my  eyes. 

"Who's  going  to  the  city?"  I  demanded. 

"The  ladies  is  goin'  at  once,  sorr.  They 
sent  orders  an  hour  ago  to  be  ready  with  the 
new  machine.  Orders  was  to  take  my  bag; 
it  looks  like  I'd  be  gone  the  night.  I'm  late 
and  you'll  have  to  excuse  me,  sorr." 

I  sprang  out  of  bed  and  plied  him  with 
questions,  most  of  which  he  was  unable  to 
answer.  I  did,  however,  extract  from  him 
the  information  that  nothing  had  occurred 
after  I  retired  for  the  night  that  could  have 
112 


PURSUING   KNIGHTS 

alarmed  the  women  at  the  residence  and 
prompted  this  abrupt  departure.  There  was 
no  reason  why  Alice  shouldn't  run  to  town 
if  it  pleased  her  to  do  so,  and  yet  it  was  odd 
that  she  hadn't  mentioned  the  matter.  Flynn 
hurried  away,  and  from  the  window  I  followed 
the  car's  course  to  the  house,  and  a  moment 
later  caught  a  glimpse  of  it  on  its  way  to  the 
gates. 

I  was  shaving  when  Antoine  appeared,  pale 
from  the  stirring  incidents  of  the  night. 

"I  suppose  you  know,  sir,"  he  said, 
straightening  the  coffee-pot  on  the  tray  in 
an  attempt  to  conceal  his  emotions. 

"When  did  you  first  hear  that  the  ladies 
meant  to  leave  to-day?"  I  shouted  with  a 
flourish  of  the  razor.  "If  you  knew  it  last 
night  and  didn't  tell  me — 

"I  heard  it,  incidental- like,  at  breakfast 
this  morning.  There  was  a  night  letter,  sir, 
read  by  the  agent  at  Barton  to  the  mistress 
quite  early,  sir.  I  can't  tell  you  what  it  was, 
sir." 

"Did  they  seem  alarmed  or  depressed; 
was  there  anything  to  indicate  whether  they 
had  bad  news?" 

"3 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

"They  seemed  quite  merry  over  it,  sir. 
But  you  know  their  goings-on,  which  I  never 
understand,  sir.  For  all  I  know  it  may  be 
a  death  in  the  family;  you'd  never  tell  it 
from  their  actions.  You  will  pardon  me  for  re 
marking  it  again,  sir;  but,  considering  that 
they're  ladies,  their  actions  and  goings-on  is 
most  peculiar." 

"As  to  luggage,  I  hope  you  had  the  intel 
ligence  to  note  whether  they  went  for  a  long 
stay?" 

"Only  the  suitcases  that  fits  into  the  rack 
of  the  machine.  Louise  thought  they  might 
be  going  for  a  week,  maybe." 

This  was  all  I  got  out  of  him.  Mrs.  Bash- 
ford  and  Mrs.  Farnsworth  had  flown,  giving 
no  hint  of  the  length  of  their  absence.  They 
had  slipped  away  and  left  me  with  a  prisoner 
that  I  didn't  know  what  to  do  with;  with 
an  inquiry  by  the  American  Department  of 
State  hanging  over  me;  with  Torrence  to 
reckon  with,  and,  in  general,  a  muddled  head 
that  only  a  vast  number  of  lucid  explanations 
could  restore  to  sanity. 

I  called  from  the  window  to  one  of  the 
gardeners  who  knew  how  to  manage  a  ma- 
114 


PURSUING   KNIGHTS 

chine  and  told  him  to  be  ready  to  drive  me 
to  the  village  in  half  an  hour.  There  was  an 
express  at  ten-forty,  and  by  taking  it  I  would 
at  least  have  the  satisfaction  of  being  some 
where  in  New  York  when  the  runaways  ar 
rived.  Antoine  packed  my  suitcase;  I  am 
not  sure  that  he  didn't  shed  tears  on  my  be 
longings.  The  old  fellow  was  awed  into 
silence  by  the  rapidity  with  which  history 
had  been  made  in  the  past  twenty-four  hours, 
and  clearly  was  not  pleased  by  my  desertion. 
We  drove  past  the  tool-house,  where  I 
found  the  prisoner  seated  on  a  wheelbarrow 
smoking  a  cigarette.  He  was  no  more  com 
municative  than  when  I  had  questioned  him 
after  his  capture.  He  smiled  in  a  bored 
fashion  when  I  asked  if  he  wanted  anything, 
and  said  he  would  be  obliged  for  cigarettes 
and  reading-matter.  He  volunteered  nothing 
as  to  his  identity,  and  the  guards  said  that 
a  thorough  search  of  the  captive's  clothing 
had  disclosed  nothing  incriminating.  He 
had  three  hundred  dollars  in  currency  (this 
was  to  cover  Elsie's  bribe  money,  I  conjec 
tured),  a  handkerchief,  a  cigarette-case,  and 
a  box  of  matches.  I  directed  that  he  be  well 
"5 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

fed  and  given  all  the  reading-matter  he 
wanted,  and  hurried  on  to  catch  my  train. 

The  futility  of  my  errand  struck  me  hard 
as  I  felt  the  city  surging  round  me.  Without 
a  clew  to  work  on,  I  was  utterly  unlikely  to 
find  the  two  women,  and  even  if  I  should 
stumble  upon  them,  in  what  way  could  I  ex 
plain  my  conduct  in  following  them?  I  was 
visited  also  by  the  discouraging  thought  that 
New  York  might  not,  after  all,  be  their  des 
tination. 

Flynn  was  a  capable  but  cautious  driver, 
and  they  would  hardly  reach  town  before  five 
o'clock.  I  took  a  room  at  the  Thackeray 
Club  and  pondered  carefully  whether,  in 
spite  of  my  misgivings,  I  hadn't  better  see 
Torrence  and  tell  him  all  that  had  happened 
since  his  call  on  Mrs.  Bashford.  If  there 
was  any  chance  of  doing  the  wrong  thing  in 
any  matter  not  prescribed  in  the  laws  gov 
erning  the  administration  of  estates,  he  would 
be  sure  to  do  it;  but  I  was  far  from  satisfied 
with  the  results  of  my  own  management  of 
affairs  at  Barton.  I  finally  called  up  the 
trust  company  and  learned  that  Torrence 
was  in  Albany  attending  the  trial  of  a  will 
case  and  might  not  be  in  town  for  a  couple 
116 


PURSUING    KNIGHTS 

of  days.  His  secretary  said  he  had  instruc 
tions  to  wire  my  daily  report  to  Albany.  I 
told  him  there  had  been  no  developments  at 
Barton,  and  went  out  and  walked  the  Avenue. 
Inquiries  at  hotels  large  and  small  occupied 
me  until  seven  o'clock.  No  one  had  heard 
of  a  Mrs.  Bashford  or  a  Mrs.  Farnsworth. 
My  inspection  of  the  occupants  of  several 
thousand  automobiles  proved  equally  fruitless. 
I  ate  a  lonely  dinner  at  the  club  and  resumed 
my  search.  Hanging  about  theatre  doors, 
staring  at  the  crowd,  is  not  a  dignified  oc 
cupation,  and  by  nine  o'clock,  having  seen 
the  most  belated  theatre-goers  vanish,  I  was 
tired  and  footsore.  The  flaming  sign  of 
Searles's  "Who  Killed  Cock  Robin?"  over 
the  door  of  the  "As  You  Like  It"  caught  my 
eye.  I  bought  a  seat — the  last  in  the  rack 
— and  squeezed  into  my  place  in  the  middle 
of  the  last  row.  As  I  had  seen  the  piece  at 
least  a  dozen  times,  its  novelty  was  gone  for 
me,  but  the  laughter  of  the  delighted  audience 
was  cheering.  The  first  act  was  reaching  its 
culmination,  and  I  watched  it  with  a  glow 
of  pride  in  Searles  and  his  skilful  craftsman 
ship. 

As  the  curtain  fell  and  the  lights  went  up 
117 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

amid  murmurs  of  pleasure  and  expectancy, 
I  glanced  across  the  rows  of  heads  with  awak 
ened  interest.  "Who  Killed  Cock  Robin?" 
had  been  praised  with  such  unanimity  that 
if  Alice  were  in  any  playhouse  that  night  I 
was  as  likely  to  see  her  in  the  "As  You  Like 
It"  as  anywhere. 

The  half-turned  face  of  a  man  three  rows 
in  front  of  me  suddenly  caught  my  attention. 
There  was  something  curiously  familiar  in 
his  outlines  and  the  gesture  with  which,  at 
the  moment,  he  was  drawing  his  handker 
chief  across  his  forehead.  I  judged  that  he 
too  had  come  late,  for  he  now  removed  his 
topcoat  and  thrust  his  hat  under  the  seat. 
It  was  Montani — beyond  any  question  Mon- 
tani — and  I  instinctively  shrank  in  my  seat 
and  lifted  my  programme  as  he  turned  round 
and  swiftly  surveyed  the  rows  behind  him. 

I  watched  his  black  head  intently  until  I 
remembered  the  superstition  that  by  staring 
at  a  person  in  a  public  place  you  can  make 
him  look  at  you.  Montani  knew  a  great 
many  things  I  wanted  to  know,  but  I  must 
have  time  to  adjust  myself  to  the  shock  of 
his  propinquity.  I  satisfied  myself  that  he 
118 


PURSUING   KNIGHTS 

was  alone  and  as  he  continued  to  mop  his 
face  I  judged  that  he  had  arrived  in  some 
haste.  The  house  now  took  note  of  a  stirring 
in  one  of  the  boxes.  There  was  an  excited 
buzz  as  the  tall  form  and  unmistakable  fea 
tures  of  Cecil  Arrowsmith,  the  English  actor, 
were  recognized.  I  had  read  that  day  of  his 
arrival  in  New  York.  With  him  were  two 
women.  My  breath  came  hard  and  I  clutched 
the  iron  frame  of  the  seat  in  front  of  me  so 
violently  that  its  occupant  turned  and  glared. 

The  trio  settled  into  their  places  quickly, 
but  not  before  I  had  satisfied  myself  that 
Arrowsmith's  companions  were  Alice  and 
Mrs.  Farnsworth.  As  they  fell  into  animated 
talk  I  saw  that  Alice  was  in  her  gayest  humor. 
The  distinguished  tragedian  seemed  greatly 
amused  by  what  she  was  saying  to  him. 

"Must  be  members  of  Arrowsmith's  com 
pany,"  one  of  my  neighbors  remarked.  "They 
open  in  two  weeks  in  Shakespearian  reper 
toire." 

Montani  had  half  risen,  the  better  to  focus 

an  opera-glass  on  the  box.   The  gong  solemnly 

announced  the  second  act,  and  Alice  moved 

her  chair  to  face  the  stage.    Once  more  Mon- 

119 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

tani  scanned  the  party  with  his  glass.  As 
the  lights  faded  Alice,  with  the  pretty 
languorous  gesture  I  so  well  remembered, 
opened  her  fan — the  fan  of  ostrich  plumes, 
that  became  a  blur  of  white  that  held  my  eye 
through  the  dusk  after  the  curtain  rose. 

Alice,  Montani,  and  the  fan !  To  this  com 
bination  I  had  now  to  add  the  new  element 
introduced  into  the  situation  by  the  apparent 
familiar  acquaintance  of  Alice  and  Mrs.  Farns- 
worth  with  Cecil  Arrowsmith.  And  yet,  as 
the  play  proceeded  on  its  swift-moving  course, 
I  reasoned  that  there  was  nothing  extraor 
dinary  in  their  knowing  the  eminent  actor. 
He  had  long  been  a  personage  in  England 
and  had  lately  been  knighted.  Their  ap 
pearance  with  him  at  the  theatre  really  dis 
posed  of  the  idea  that  they  might  be  im 
postors.  The  presence  of  Arrowsmith  had 
put  zest  into  the  company,  and  I  hadn't 
seen  a  better  performance  of  Searles's  play. 
The  trio  in  the  box  joined  in  the  prolonged 
applause  at  the  end  of  the  act. 

As  they  resumed  their  talk  Alice,  it  seemed, 
was  relating  something  of  moment  for  Arrow- 
smith's  benefit,  referring  now  and  then  to 
120 


PURSUING   KNIGHTS 

Mrs.  Farnsworth  as  though  for  corroboration. 
The  scene  in  the  box  was  almost  as  interest 
ing  as  any  in  the  play,  and  the  audience 
watched  with  deep  absorption.  Alice,  the 
least  self-conscious  of  mortals,  was,  I  knew, 
utterly  unaware  of  the  curious  gaze  of  the 
house;  whatever  she  was  saying  with  an  oc 
casional  gesture  of  her  gloved  hands  or  a 
shrug  of  her  shoulders  possessed  her  com 
pletely.  I  thought  she  might  be  telling  Ar- 
rowsmith  of  her  adventures  at  Barton;  but 
the  length  of  her  narrative  was  against  this, 
and  Arrowsmith's  attitude  was  more  that  of 
a  critic  appealed  to  for  an  opinion  than  of  a 
polite  listener  to  a  story.  He  nodded  his 
head  several  times,  and  finally,  as  Alice,  with 
a  slight  dip  of  the  head  and  an  outward  move 
ment  of  her  arms,  settled  back  in  her  chair, 
he  patted  his  hands  approvingly. 

In  my  absorption  I  had  forgotten  Mon 
tana's  existence,  but  as  the  third  act  began 
I  saw  that  he  had  gone.  Whether  I  should 
put  myself  in  Alice's  way  as  she  left  the  theatre 
was  still  an  undetermined  question  when  the 
play  ended.  With  Montani  hanging  about  I 
felt  a  certain  obligation  to  warn  her  that  he 
121 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

had  been  watching  her.  I  was  among  the 
first  to  leave,  and  in  the  foyer  I  met  Forsythe, 
the  house  manager,  who  knew  me  as  a  friend 
of  Searles. 

"You  notice  that  we're  still  turning  'em 
away,"  he  remarked.  "We  don't  have  to 
worry  about  this  piece;  everybody  who  sees 
it  sends  his  friends  the  next  day.  Searles 
hasn't  looked  in  for  some  time;  hope  he's 
writing  a  new  play?" 

"He's  West  visiting  his  folks.  Don't  know 
when  he'll  be  back,"  I  answered.  "I  must 
write  him  that  Sir  Cecil  Arrowsmith  enjoyed 
'Who  Killed  Cock  Robin?'  just  as  much  as 
common  mortals." 

Forsythe  had  paused  at  the  box-office,  and 
in  my  uncertainty  I  stuck  to  him  as  the  crowd 
began  to  surge  by. 

Arrowsmith's  approach  was  advertised  by 
the  peculiar  type  of  tall  hat  that  he  affected, 
and  the  departing  audience  made  way  for 
him,  or  hung  back  to  stare.  At  his  left  were 
Alice  and  Mrs.  Farnsworth,  and  they  must 
pass  quite  close  to  me.  "Who  Killed  Cock 
Robin?"  was  a  satisfying  play  that  sent 
audiences  away  with  lightened  hearts  and 
122 


PURSUING   KNIGHTS 

smiling  faces,  and  the  trio  were  no  exception 
to  the  rule. 

Listening  inattentively  to  Forsythe,  I  was 
planning  to  join  Alice  when  the  trio  should 
reach  me.  She  saw  me;  there  was  a  fleeting 
flash  of  recognition  in  her  eyes,  and  then  she 
turned  toward  Arrowsmith.  She  drew  nearer; 
her  gaze  met  mine  squarely,  but  now  without 
a  sign  to  indicate  that  she  had  ever  seen  me 
before.  She  passed  on,  talking  with  greatest 
animation  to  Arrowsmith. 

"Well,  remember  me  to  Searles  if  you  write 
him,"  I  heard  Forsythe  saying.  I  clutched 
his  arm  as  he  opened  the  office  door. 

"Who  are  those  women?"  I  demanded. 

"You  may  search  me!  I  see  you  have  a 
good  eye.  That  girl's  rather  nice  to  look  at ! " 

Crowding  my  way  to  the  open,  I  blocked 
the  path  of  orderly,  sane  citizens  awaiting 
their  machines  until  a  policeman  pushed  me 
aside.  Alice  I  saw  for  a  bewildering  instant, 
framed  in  the  window  of  a  big  limousine  that 
rolled  away  up-town. 

I  had  been  snubbed!  No  snub  had  ever 
been  delivered  more  deliberately,  with  a  nicer 
calculation  of  effect,  than  that  administered 
123 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

to  me  by  Alice  Bashford — a  girl  with  whom, 
until  a  moment  before,  I  had  believed  myself 
on  terms  of  cordial  comradeship.  She  had 
cut  me;  Alice  who  had  asked  me  at  the  very 
beginning  of  our  acquaintance  to  call  her  by 
her  first  name — Alice  had  cut  me  without  the 
quiver  of  a  lash. 

I  walked  to  the  Thackeray"and  settled  my 
self  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  reading-room, 
thoroughly  bruised  in  spirit.  In  my  resent 
ment  I  meditated  flying  to  Ohio  to  join  Sear- 
les,  always  my  chief  resource  in  trouble. 
Affairs  at  Barton  might  go  to  the  devil.  If 
Alice  and  her  companion  wanted  to  get  rid  of 
me,  I  would  not  be  sorry  to  be  relieved  of  the 
responsibility  I  had  assumed  in  trying  to 
protect  them.  With  rising  fury  I  reflected 
that  by  the  time  they  had  shaken  off  Mon- 
tani  and  got  rid  of  the  prisoner  in  the  tool- 
house  they  would  think  better  of  me. 

"Telephone  call,  sir." 

I  followed  the  boy  to  the  booth  in  a  rage 
that  any  one  should  disturb  my  gloomy  re 
flections. 

"Mr.  Singleton  ?  Oh !  This  is  Alice  speak 
ing » 

124 


PURSUING   KNIGHTS 

I  clutched  the  shelf  for  support.  Not  only 
was  it  Alice  speaking,  but  in  the  kindest 
voice  imaginable.  My  anger  passed,  but  my 
amazement  at  Alice  and  all  her  ways  blinded 
me.  If  she  had  suddenly  stepped  through  the 
wall,  my  surprise  could  not  have  been  greater. 

"You  told  me  the  Thackeray  ^as  your 
usual  refuge  in  town,  so  I  thought  i'd  try  it. 
Are  you  very,  very  cross?  I'm  sorry,  really 
lam— Bob!" 

The  "  Bob"  was  added  lingeringly,  propiti- 
atingly.  Huddled  in  the  booth,  I  doubted 
my  senses — wondering  indeed  whether  Alice 
hadn't  a  double — even  whether  I  hadn't 
dreamed  everything  that  had  occurred  at 
Barton. 

"I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  ever  so  much  at 
the  theatre,  but  I  couldn't  very  well  without 
introducing  you  to  Sir  Cecil,  and  I  wasn't 
ready  to  do  that.  It  might  have  caused  com 
plications." 

If  anything  could  have  multiplied  the 
existing  complications,  I  was  anxious  to 
know  what  they  were;  but  her  voice  was 
so  gentle,  so  wholly  amiable,  that  I  restrained 
an  impulse  to  demand  explanations. 
125 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

"Are  you  jn  earth  or  are  you  speaking 
from  paradise?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  we're  in  a  very  nice  house,  Constance 
and  I;  anc  we're  just  about  having  a  little 
supper.  I  wish  you  were  here,  but  that  can't 
be  arranged.  No;  really  it  can't !  We  shall 
be  motoring  back  to  Barton  to-morrow  and 
hope  you  can  join  us.  Let  us  have  luncheon 
and  motor  up  together." 

When  I  suggested  that  I  call  for  them  she 
laughed  gayly. 

"That  would  be  telling  things!  And  we 
mustn't  spoil  everything  when  everything  is 
going  so  beautifully." 

Remembering  the  man  I  had  locked  up  in 
the  tool-house  and  the  explanations  I  should 
have  to  make  sooner  or  later  to  the  unimag 
inative  Torrence,  I  wasn't  wholly  convinced 
of  the  general  beauty  of  the  prospect. 

"Montani  was  in  the  theatre,"  I  suggested. 

Her  laughter  rippled  merrily  over  the  wire. 
"Oh,  he  tried  to  follow  us  in  a  taxi !  We  had 
a  great  time  throwing  him  off  in  the  park. 
I'm  not  sure  he  isn't  sitting  on  the  curb  right 
now  watching  the  house  ungraciously." 

"You  have  the  fan  with  you;  Montani 
126 


PURSUING   KNIGHTS 

jumped  right  out  of  his  seat  when  you  opened 
it  in  the  theatre." 

This  she  received  with  more  laughter; 
Montani  amused  her  immensely,  she  said. 
She  wasn't  in  the  least  afraid  of  him.  Re 
turning  to  the  matter  of  the  luncheon,  she 
suggested  the  Tyringham. 

"You  know,  I  want  very  much  to  see  Mr. 
Bashford's  old  home  and  the  place  all  our 
veteran  retainers  came  from.  At  one? — yes. 
Goodnight!"  .  .  . 

Alice  and  Mrs.  Farnsworth  reached  the 
Tyringham  on  time  to  the  minute.  As  I 
had  spent  the  morning  on  a  bench  in  the 
park,  analyzing  my  problems,  I  found  their 
good  humor  a  trifle  jarring. 

"You  don't  seem  a  bit  glad  to  see  us," 
Alice  complained  as  she  drew  off  her  gloves. 
"How  can  any  one  be  anything  but  happy 
after  seeing  that  delicious  '  Cock  Robin ' !  It 
is  so  deliciously  droll." 

"I  haven't,"  I  remarked  with  an  attempt 
at  severity,  "quite  your  knack  of  ignoring 
disagreeable  facts.  There  was  Montani  right 
in  front  of  me,  jumping  like  a  jack-in-the- 
box  every  time  you  flourished  your  fan. 
127 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

There's  that  fellow  we've  got  locked  up  at 
Barton— 

"Just  hear  the  man,  Constance!"  she  in 
terrupted  with  her  adorable  laugh.  "We 
were  thinking  that  he  was  beginning  to  see 
things  our  way,  the  only  true  way,  the  jolly 
way,  and  here  he  cometh  like  a  melancholy 
Jaques !  We'll  have  none  of  it ! " 

"We  must  confess,"  said  Mrs.  Farnsworth 
conciliatingly,  "that  Mr.  Singleton  is  passing 
through  a  severe  trial.  We  precipitated  our 
selves  upon  him  without  warning,  and  im 
mediately  involved  him  in  a  mesh  of  mys 
tery.  His  imagination  must  have  time  to 
adjust  itself." 

"Ah,  the  imagination!"  sighed  Alice  with 
her  wistful  smile.  "How  little  patience  the 
world  has  with  anything  but  the  soberest 
facts!  Why  should  we  bother  about  that 
lunatic  Montani  or  the  gentleman  immured 
in  the  tool-house?  I  couldn't  introduce  you 
to  Sir  Cecil  without  anticipating  the  end  of 
our  story;  and  I  want  you  to  keep  wonder 
ing  and  wondering  about  us.  It's  all  so  jolly ! 
I  love  it  all !  And  really  you  wouldn't  spoil 
it,  Bob !  It's  dreadful  to  spoil  things." 
128 


PURSUING    KNIGHTS 

They  were  spoiling  my  appetite;  I  was 
perfectly  aware  of  that.  I  had  ordered  the 
best  luncheon  I  knew  how  to  compose,  and 
they  were  doing  full  justice  to  it;  but  I  was 
acting,  I  knew,  like  a  resentful  boy. 

"I  love  you  that  way,"  said  Alice  as  I 
stared  vacantly  at  my  plate.  "But  you 
really  are  not  making  yourself  disagreeable 
to  us — really  he  is  not,  Constance!" 

Mrs.  Farnsworth  affirmed  this.  I  knew 
that  I  was  merely  being  rude,  and  the  con 
sciousness  of  this  was  not  uplifting.  At  the< 
luncheon  hour  the  influx  of  shoppers  gives 
the  Tyringham  a  cheery  tone,  and  all  about 
us  were  people  apparently  conversing  sanely 
and  happily.  The  appearance  of  Uncle  Bash's 
ghost  in  the  familiar  dining-room  would  have 
been  a  welcome  diversion.  I  was  speculating 
as  to  just  what  he  would  say  about  his  widow 
and  the  whole  mess  at  Barton  when  Mrs. 
Farnsworth  addressed  me  pleadingly. 

"If  you  knew  that  we  want  you  to  play 
with  us  only  a  few  days  longer — three  days, 
shall  we  say,  Alice? — if  you  knew  that  then 
we'll  untangle  everything,  wouldn't  you  be 
nice — very  nice?" 

129 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

In  spite  of  myself  I  couldn't  resist  this  ap 
peal.  I  was  more  and  more  impressed  by 
the  fineness,  the  charm  of  Mrs.  Farnsworth. 
When  she  dropped  the  make-believe  foolish 
ness  in  which  she  indulged  quite  as  amusingly 
as  Alice,  she  appeared  to  be  a  very  sensible 
person.  The  humor  danced  in  her  eyes  now, 
but  her  glance  was  more  than  an  appeal;  it 
was  a  command. 

"If  you  knew  that  our  troubles  are  not  at 
all  the  troubles  you're  thinking  about,  but 
very  different " 

"Please  pardon  me!"  I  muttered  humbly, 
and  wished  that  Alice  were  not  so  bewitching 
in  a  sailor  hat.  It  may  have  been  the  hat  or 
only  Mrs.  Farnsworth's  pleading  tone  that 
brought  me  to  a  friendlier  attitude  toward 
the  universe  and  its  visible  inhabitants.  The 
crowd  thinned  out,  but  we  lingered,  talking 
of  all  manner  of  things. 

"We  must  come  in  again  very  soon,"  said 
Alice.  "And  next  time  we  shan't  run  away, 
which  was  very  naughty.  I  suppose  when 
you  begin  a  story  you  just  have  to  keep  it 
going  or  it  will  die  on  your  hands.  That's 
the  way  with  our  story,  you  know.  Of  course 
130 


PURSUING   KNIGHTS 

it's  unkind  to  mystify  you;  but  you  are  in 
the  story  just  as  we  are." 

My  mystification  was  certainly  deep 
enough  without  this  suggestion  that  I  was  a 
mere  character  in  a  tale  whose  awkward  be 
ginning  aroused  only  the  gravest  apprehen 
sions  as  to  the  conclusion.  She  looked  at 
her  watch  and  continued: 

"I'm  so  absurd — really  I  am,  in  ever  so 
many  ways,  that  no  one  would  ever  put  me 
in  a  book.  Every  one  would  say  no  such 
person  ever  existed !  It's  incredible !  And 
so  I  have  to  pretend  I'm  in  a  story  all  the 
time.  It's  the  only  way  I  can  keep  happy. 
And  so  many  people  are  in  my  story  now, 
not  only  Montani  and  the  poor  fellow  locked 
up  at  Barton — oh,  what  if  he  should  escape ! 
Constance,  it  would  be  splendid  if  he  should 
escape!" 

"I  don't  think  it  would  be  splendid  if  he 
escaped!"  I  exclaimed,  sitting  up  very 
straight  at  the  bare  thought  of  such  a 
calamity.  "He  would  either  kill  me  or  sue 
me  for  damages." 

"Oh,  that  wouldn't  fit  into  the  story  at 
all !  Murder  and  damages  are  so  frightfully 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

sordid  and  generally  disagreeable.  We  must 
have  nothing  like  that  in  our  story." 

"You  didn't  finish  your  enumeration  of 
characters,"  I  suggested.  "Is  my  part  an 
important  one  or  am  I  only  a  lay  figure?" 

"My  dear  boy,"  cried  Mrs.  Farnsworth, 
"you  are  the  hero!  You  have  been  the  hero 
from  the  hour  the  story  began.  If  you  should 
desert  us  now,  whatever  should  we  do ! " 

"If  I'm  the  hero,"  I  replied  in  her  own 
key,  "I  shall  begin  making  love  to  Alice  at 
once." 

Alice,  far  from  being  disturbed  by  my 
declaration,  nodded  her  head  approvingly. 

"Oh,  we  had  expected  that!  But  you 
needn't  be  in  a  hurry.  In  a  story  like  this 
one,  that  runs  right  on  from  day  to  day,  we 
must  leave  a  lot  to  chance.  And  there  are 
ever  so  many  chances — 

"Not  all  on  the  side  of  failure,  I  hope?" 

"We  must  be  going."  She  laughed.  I 
wished  she  hadn't  that  characteristic  little- 
turn  of  the  head  that  was  so  beguiling! 

Folly  rode  with  us  all  the  way  to  Barton. 
If  anything  sensible  was  uttered  on  the  drive, 
I  can't  recall  it.  Our  talk,  chiefly  of  knights 
132 


PURSUING   KNIGHTS 

and  ladies,  and  wild  flights  from  imaginary 
enemies,  had  the  effect  of  spurring  Flynn  to 
perilous  spurts  of  speed. 

"Flynn  has  caught  the  spirit!"  cried  Alice 
exultingly.  "Haven't  you,  Flynn?" 

Flynn,  turning  to  confirm  this,  caused  the 
car  to  swerve  and  graze  a  truck  piled  high 
with  household  goods. 

"We  may  elude  the  pursuing  knights,"  I 
suggested,  "but  some  village  constable  may 
take  it  into  his  head  to  pinch  us." 

"Oh,  that  would  be  lovely,"  cried  Alice. 
"And  we'd  telegraph  dear  Mr.  Torrence  to 
come  and  bail  us  out." 

We  reached  Barton  at  nine  o'clock  and 
after  an  informal  supper  I  listened  to  An- 
toine's  solemn  reports  as  I  walked  to  the 
garage.  The  prisoner  had  made  no  sign,  he 
said,  and  nothing  had  occurred  during  the 
day. 

"But  there's  this,  Mr.  Singleton,  which 
you  ought  to  know,  sir.  The  old  Tyringham 
people  don't  like  the  goings  on  here.  You'll 
admit  it's  all  mighty  queer.  I  don't  com 
plain,  sir,  but  some  of  the  boys  threatens  to 
leave,  sir.  And  I  look  at  it  this  way,  that 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

nobody  understanding  what  the  spying  and 
bribes  offered  and  taking  prisoners  is  all 
about,  is  most  peculiar.  We  got  to  know 
where  we  stand,  that's  what  it's  come  to,  sir. 
And  the  widow  being  flighty-like  and  Flynn 
coming  home  and  saying  nothing,  but  shak 
ing  his  head  when  we  ask  him  where  he's 
been —  You  see  for  yourself,  sir,  how  it  looks 
to  us." 

What  he  said  as  to  the  general  aspect  of 
things  was  true,  but  I  didn't  admit  that  it 
was  true.  Alice  had  converted  me  to  the 
notion  that  I  was  a  character  in  a  story,  a 
plaything  of  fate,  and  I  lightly  brushed  aMde 
Antoine's  melancholy  plaint. 

"Any  man  of  you,"  I  said,  "who  leaves 
this  property  will  be  brought  back  and  shot. 
Tell  that  to  the  boys!" 

Nevertheless,  the  perfect  equanimity  of 
the  gentleman  in  the  tool-house  when  I  visited 
him  the  next  morning  shook  my  faith  a  trifle 
in  the  story-book  features  of  life  at  Barton. 
He  was  an  exemplary  prisoner,  the  guards 
reported,  and  he  had  maintained  the  strictest 
silence  in  my  absence.  He  ate,  smoked,  and 
read,  courteously  thanking  the  men  for  their 


PURSUING    KNIGHTS 

attentions,  and  that  was  all.  When  I  showed 
myself  at  the  window  he  rose  and  threw  down 
the  magazine  he  was  reading  and  replied 
good-naturedly  to  my  inquiry  as  to  how  he 
was  getting  along. 

"I  have  no  complaint  except  that  the 
guards  snore  outrageously.  The  poor  old 
chaps  will  sleep,  you  know." 

"If  you're  so  badly  guarded,  why  don't 
you  escape?"  I  asked  tartly. 

"It  would  relieve  your  mind  a  lot  if  I 
should  disappear?"  he  asked  insinuatingly. 

"You  are  impertinent,"  I  replied,  irritated 
that  he  should  have  surmised  that  his  pres 
ence  was  causing  me  uneasiness.  "If  you 
will  come  to  your  senses  and  tell  me  the  mean 
ing  of  your  visits  here,  we  may  agree  upon 
terms.  As  it  stands,  you're  a  trespasser; 
you  tried  to  bribe  a  servant  to  rob  the  house. 
If  you're  at  all  familiar  with  criminal  law  in 
this  country,  you  can  estimate  the  number 
of  years'  imprisonment  that  will  be  handed 
you  for  these  little  indiscretions." 

"If  it's  all  so  plain,  why  don't  you  hand 
me  over  to  the  authorities?"  he  asked,  pro- 
vokingly  cool. 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

"I'm  giving  you  a  chance  to  confess  and 
tell  who's  back  of  all  this.  Tell  me  just  why 
your  confederate  Montani  is  annoying  Mrs. 
Bashford,  and  I'll  turn  you  loose." 

"Perhaps,  my  dear  sir,  the  motive  that 
impels  you  to  detain  me  unlawfully  is  the 
same  that  enjoins  silence  upon  me!  Please 
consider  that  a  little." 

I  replied  that  I  would  consider  nothing 
short  of  a  confession.  In  a  match  of  wits 
he  was  fully  my  equal,  and  in  the  mastery 
of  his  temper  he  certainly  had  the  best  of 
me. 

"If  you  wait  for  me  to  confess  anything, 
you  will  wait  forever,"  he  replied.  "I  repeat 
that  we  are  impelled  by  the  same  motives, 
you  and  I.  I  think  I  needn't  enlighten  you 
as  to  what  they  are." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  your  idea  of  my 
motives,"  I  answered  feebly. 

"I  shall  be  frank,"  he  replied  readily. 
"The  reason  you  don't  turn  me  over  to  the 
police  is  the  very  simple  one  that  you  don't 
want  to  embarrass  the  mistress  of  the  house 
yonder  by  causing  the  light  of  publicity  to 
beat  upon  her  very  charming  head.  You 
136 


PURSUING    KNIGHTS 

wish  to  save  her  annoyance,  and  possibly 
something  much  graver.  I  can  see  that  you 
are  impressed;  but  it  ought  to  please  you 
to  know  that  I  share  your  feeling  of  delicacy 
where  she  is  concerned.  And  let  me  add 
that  the  Count  Montani  is  animated  by  like 
feeling.  So  there  we  are,  exactly  on  the  same 
ground ! " 

"You  haven't  answered  my  questions!" 
I  blustered  to  hide  my  annoyance  at  being 
thrust  further  into  the  dark.  "You  don't 
understand  Mrs.  Bashford,"  I  went  on  hur 
riedly.  "It  is  inconceivable  that  any  one 
should  wish  to  injure  her  or  that  she  could 
have  committed  any  act  that  would  cause 
her  to  be  spied  upon.  She's  tremendously 
imaginative;  she  indulges  in  little  fancies 
that  are  a  part  of  her  charm !" 

"Little  fancies!"  he  repeated,  hiding  a 
yawn.  "It's  deplorable  for  a  pretty  woman 
to  have  an  imagination;  there's  danger 
there!" 

"Your  philosophy  bores  me,"  I  said,  and 
left  him.  He  had  lied  about  the  snoring  of 
the  guards — Antoine  satisfied  me  of  that — 
but  I  gave  instructions  to  double  the  watch. 


CHAPTER  V 
ALICE 

I  WANTED  to  be  alone  and  struck  off  for 
a  wood  that  lay  on  the  northern  end  of 
the  estate.  This  was  the  most  picturesque 
spot  on  the  property,  a  wild  confusion  of 
trees  and  boulders.  On  a  summit  in  the 
midst  of  it  Uncle  Bash  had  built  a  platform 
round  a  majestic  pine  from  which  to  view 
the  Sound.  I  mounted  the  ladder  and  was 
brushing  the  dead  leaves  from  the  bench 
when,  somewhere  below  me  and  farther  on, 
I  heard  voices. 

I  flattened  myself  on  the  platform,  lis 
tening  intently.  A  stiff  breeze  from  the 
Sound  flung  the  voices  clearly  to  my  hiding- 
place,  and  I  became  aware  that  Alice  and 
Mrs.  Farnsworth  were  holding  a  colloquy  in 
what  seemed  to  be  the  vein  of  their  whimsical 
make-believe.  That  they  should  be  doing 
this  in  the  depth  of  the  woodland  merely  for 
their  own  amusement  did  not  surprise  me— 
138 


ALICE 

nothing  they  could  have  done  would  have 
astonished  me-— but  the  tone  of  their  talk 
changed  abruptly. 

"Try  it  from  that  boulder  there,  Alice," 
said  Mrs.  Farnsworth.  "It's  an  ideal  place, 
created  for  the  very  purpose." 

I  could  see  them  moving  about  and  hear 
the  swish  of  shrubbery  and  the  scraping  of 
their  feet  on  the  rough  slope. 

"How  will  that  do?"  asked  Alice. 

"Beautifully,"  replied  Mrs.  Farnsworth. 
"Now  go  ahead  from  the  beginning  of  the 
scene." 

Cautiously  drawing  back  the  branches,  I 
espied  Alice  striking  a  pose  on  a  mammoth 
rock.  She  bent  forward,  clasping  her  knees, 
and  with  an  occasional  glance  at  what  ap 
peared  to  be  an  open  book  beside  her,  she 
began : 

"You  ask  me  who  I  am,  my  lord?  It 
matters  not  at  all  who  or  what  I  am;  let  it 
suffice  that  berries  are  my  food  and  the  brook 
that  sings  behind  me  gives  me  drink.  To 
be  one  thing  or  another  is  a  weariness.  Would 
you  ask  yonder  oak  for  a  name,  or  trouble 
the  wind  with  like  foolish  questions?  No; 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

it  is  enough  that  a  tree  is  strong  and  fine  to 
look  upon  and  that  a  wind  has  healing  in  its 
wings." 

With  her  head  to  one  side  and  an  arresting 
gesture,  and  throwing  into  her  voice  all  its 
charm  and  a  new  compelling  innocence  and 
sweetness,  she  continued: 

"But  you  would  have  a  name?  Then, 
O  foolish  one,  so  much  I  will  tell  you :  Yester 
day  I  was  Helen,  who  launched  a  thousand 
ships  and  shook  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium. 
To-day  I  am  Rosalind  in  the  forest  of  Arden, 
and  to-morrow  I  may  be  Antigone,  or  Ariel 
or  Viola,  or  what  you  will.  I  am  what  I  make 
myself  or  choose  to  be.  I  pray  you,  let  that 
suffice." 

My  face  was  wet  with  perspiration,  and 
my  heart  thumped  wildly.  For  either  I  was 
stark,  staring  mad,  or  these  were  lines  from 
Searles's  "Lady  Larkspur,"  the  manuscript 
of  which  was  carefully  locked  in  my  trunk. 

"That  should  be  spoken  a  trifle  more 
slowly,  and  with  the  best  air  of  unpremedi- 
tatedness  you  can  put  into  it,"  Mrs.  Farns- 
worth  was  saying.  "You  can  work  it  out 
better  when  you've  memorized  the  lines.  It's 
140 


ALICE 

immensely  effective  having  the  last  scene  come 
back  to  the  big  boulder  on  the  mountainside. 
Let  me  look  at  that  a  minute." 

She  took  up  the  manuscript — there  was  no 
question  of  the  blue  cover  of  my  copy  of 
"Lady  Larkspur" — and  turned  to  the  pas 
sage  she  sought. 

"Let  me  read  this  over,"  Mrs.  Farnsworth 
continued:  "  'I  have  played,  my  lord,  at 
hide-and-seek  with  the  stars,  and  I  have  run 
races  with  the  brooks.  You  alone  of  all  that 
have  sought  me  are  equally  fleet  of  foot  and 
heart !  If  you  but  touch  my  hand,  I  am  lost 
forever.  And  this  hand — I  beg  you  look  at 
it — is  as  brown  as  a  berry  and  as  rough  as 
hickory  bark.  A  wild  little  hand  and  not 
lightly  to  be  yielded  at  any  man's  behest. 
Look  at  me  carefully,  my  lord.'  She  rises 
to  full  height  quickly.  Let  me  see  you  do 
that,  Alice." 

Alice's  golden  head  became  more  distinc 
tively  visible  as  she  stood  erect  upon  the 
boulder. 

"Oh,  no !  You  can  improve  on  that ;  it  must 
be  done  lightly  and  quickly,  just  touching 
the  tips  of  your  fingers  to  the  rock.  Ah, 
141 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

splendid !  Now  stand  with  one  hand  dropped 
upon  the  hip — let  me  see  how  that  looks. 
Very  good;  now  repeat  these  lines  after  me. 
'This  other  world,  of  which  you  speak?' 
Shake  your  head  slowly,  frowning;  every 
hint  of  sincere  doubt  and  questioning  you 
can  throw  into  look  and  gesture.  'Is  it  a 
kind  world,  a  place  of  honest  hearts?  You 
have  spoken  of  cities,  and  crowded  avenues, 
of  music  and  theatres  and  many  things  I 
have  read  of  but  never  seen.  You  promise 
me  much,  but  what  should  I  do  in  so  vast  a 
company?  I  am  very  happy  here.  Spring 
and  summer  fill  my  hands  with  flowers  and 
in  winter  I  lay  my  face  to  the  wind  that  carries 
sleet  and  snow.  All  this  is  mine/  Arms 
stretched  out.  You  mustn't  make  that  stiff 
—very  good.  'Earth  and  sky  and  forest 
belong  to  me.  The  morning  comes  down  the 
sky  in  search  of  me  and  the  tired  day  bids  me 
good-night  at  the  western  gate.  You  would 
change  rags  for  silk.'  You  turn  your  body 
and  catch  your  skirt  in  your  hands,  looking 
down.  Yes;  you  are  barefoot  in  this  scene. 
You'll  have  to  practise  that  turn.  Now— 
'And  yet  I  should  lose  my  dominion;  in  that 
142 


ALICE 

world  you  boast  of  I  should  no  more  be  Lady 
Larkspur.' ' 

Alice  had  repeated  these  lines,  testing  and 
trying  different  modulations.  Sometimes  a 
dozen  repetitions  hardly  sufficed  to  satisfy 
Mrs.  Farnsworth,  who  herself  recited  them 
and  postured  for  Alice's  instruction. 

"Please  read  the  whole  of  the  second  act 
again,"  said  Alice,  seating  herself  on  the 
boulder.  I  waited  for  a  few  minutes,  enjoy 
ing  the  beautiful  flow  of  Mrs.  Farnsworth's 
voice,  then,  mystified  and  awed,  I  crept 
down  the  ladder  and  stole  away.  "It's  Dick 
Searles's  play,"  I  kept  whispering  to  myself. 
It  was  the  "Lady  Larkspur"  that  he  was 
holding  back  until  he  could  find  the  girl  who 
had  so  enchanted  him  in  London  and  for 
whom  he  had  written  this  very  comedy  with 
its  setting  in  the  Virginia  hills. 

Hurrying  to  the  garage,  I  snarled  at  Flynn, 
who  said  Torrence  had  been  calling  me  all 
morning  and  had  finally  left  word  that  he 
would  motor  to  Barton  at  eight  the  next 
evening  to  see  me  on  urgent  business.  I  un 
locked  my  trunk  and  dug  out  my  copy  of 
"Lady  Larkspur."  Not  even  the  wizardry 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

of  Alice  and  her  friend  could  have  extracted 
the  script.  The  two  women  had  in  some 
way  possessed  themselves  of  another  copy, 
an  exact  duplicate,  even  to  its  blue  paper 
cover;  and  I  sat  down  and  began  recalling 
everything  Searles  had  told  me  about  his 
efforts  to  find  the  actress. 

The  telephone  on  the  table  at  my  elbow 
rang  until  Flynn  came  in  timidly  to  quiet  it. 

"If  it's  Mr.  Torrence —      I  began. 

"It's  the  Barton  station,  sir.  There's  a 
telegram."  I  snatched  the  receiver  spite 
fully,  thinking  it  only  the  methodical  Tor 
rence  confirming  the  appointment  made  by 
telephone.  But  the  operator  began  reading: 

"SPRINGFIELD,  OHIO,  September  30, 1917. 

"Cable  from  London  agent  says  last  for 
warding  address  for  Violet  Dewing  was  hotel 
in  Seattle.  Please  ask  Harkaway  &  Stein 
and  anybody  else  on  Broadway  who  might 
know  what  companies  are  on  coast  or  headed 
that  way.  I  find  no  clew  in  theatrical  papers 
and  don't  want  to  mess  things  by  making 
inquiries  direct.  If  party  can  be  located,  will 
start  West  immediately. 

"SEARLES." 
144 


ALICE 

The  thought  of  Searles  was  comforting, 
and  I  reproached  myself  for  not  having  sum 
moned  him  at  the  beginning  of  my  perplexi 
ties.  I  immediately  dictated  this  reply: 

"Take  first  train  East  and  come  to  me 
at  Barton  as  quickly  as  possible.  Hope  to 
have  news  for  you." 

I  then  jotted  down  on  a  scratch  pad  this 
memorandum: 

"  The  young  woman  representing  herself  as 
Mrs.  Bashford  and  now  established  in  my 
uncle's  house  is  one  or  all  of  the  following 
persons: 

"  i.  Uncle  Bash's  widow. 

"  2.  An  impostor. 

"  3.  A  spy  of  some  sort,  pursued  by  secret 
agents. 

"  4.  Violet  Dewing,  an  actress. 

"  5.  The  most  interesting  and  the  loveliest 
and  most  charming  girl  in  the  world." 

I  checked  off  one,  two,  and  three  as  doubt 
ful  if  not  incredible;  four  seemed  possible, 
and  five  was  wholly  incontrovertible.  But 
the  first  three  certainly  required  much  il 
lumination,  and  the  fourth  I  was  helpless  to 
reconcile  with  any  of  the  others  but  the  last. 
I  reviewed  Searles's  enthusiastic  description 
J45 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

of  the  young  woman  who  had  inspired  him 
to  write  "Lady  Larkspur,"  and  could  only 
excuse  my  stupidity  in  not  fitting  it  to  Alice 
the  first  time  I  saw  her  on  the  ground  that 
Barton  was  the  last  place  in  the  world  I  should 
have  looked  for  her.  And  then,  with  all  his 
exuberance,  Searles  hadn't  done  her  justice ! 

The  following  day  nothing  of  importance 
happened,  though  Alice  and  Mrs.  Farnsworth 
again  spent  the  morning  in  the  woodland, 
presumably  studying  Searles's  play.  My 
thoughts  galloped  through  my  head  in  a 
definite  formula:  "If  she  is  not  my  aunt — 
"If  she  is  an  impostor —  "If  she  is  a  spy 
playing  a  deep  game  in  the  seclusion  of  Bar 
ton —  "If  she  is  the  actress  Searles  is  seek 
ing—  At  any  rate,  I  would  respect  her 
wish  to  play  the  game  through;  the  dangers 
of  carrying  the  story-book  idea  to  one  of 
half  a  dozen  possible  conclusions  were  not 
inconsiderable,  but  I  was  resolved  that  she 
should  finish  the  tale  in  her  own  fashion. 

On  my  way  to  luncheon  I  passed  Dutch 
pushing  a  wheelbarrow  containing  a  huge 
hamper. 

"It's  vittles  for  the  prisoner,  sir,"  he  re- 
146 


ALICE 

marked.  "He's  some  feeder,  that  guy,  and 
I  guess  the  sooner  we  shake  'ini  th'  better. 
He  kicks  on  th'  wine,  sir.  Says  it's  ques 
tionable  vintage.  When  he  gets  tired  readin' 
he  pokes  his  head  through  the  window  and 
kids  th'  boys.  He  says  he's  goin'  to  remember 
th'  place  and  come  back  when  he's  old.  A 
charmin'  retreat  fer  supernumerary  superan 
nuates,  he  calls  it.  Them's  his  woids.  I'm 
gittin'  sort  o'  nervous  havin'  'im  round.  Zim 
merman — he's  the  clothes-presser — tried  to 
talk  Goiman  to  'im  this  mornin'  an'  th'  guy 
pretended  like  his  feelin's  wuz  hoit,  an'  he 
never  knowed  th'  Hun's  language,  he  says. 
An'  Elsie  says  she's  prepared  to  swear  he 
talked  Goiman  easy  enough  to  her." 

"We'll  consider  his  case  later,  Dutch.  The 
matter  is  delicate,  most  delicate." 

If  I  had  expected  Searles  and  his  play  to 
be  introduced  into  the  table-talk,  I  was 
doomed  to  disappointment.  A  dozen  times 
I  smothered  an  impulse  to  tell  Alice  and  Mrs. 
Farnsworth  I  had  watched  them  in  the  wood 
land  and  of  Searles's  long  search  for  the  ideal 
of  his  "Lady  Larkspur,"  but  I  was  afraid  to 
risk  their  displeasure.  They  enjoyed  walking 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

in  the  wood,  they  said,  and  when  I  charged 
them  with  selfishness  in  not  taking  me  along, 
Alice  immediately  suggested  a  tramp  later 
in  the  afternoon. 

"I'll  send  you  away  after  luncheon — I  have 
loads  of  letters  to  write,  but  by  four  o'clock 
I'll  be  keen  for  the  woods  again." 

"Letters  to  all  my  good  fairies,"  she 
laughed  when  I  went  for  her;  "and  you 
mustn't  look  at  the  addresses!"  She  sug 
gested  that  we  walk  to  the  village  as  she 
liked  to  post  her  letters  herself.  We  went 
through  the  woods  where  I  had  seen  her  the 
day  before. 

"Constance  and  I  were  here  this  morning," 
she  said  when  we  reached  the  big  boulder. 
"Let  me  see;  I  think  I'll  try  a  little  trick  to 
test  the  hand  of  fate.  Give  me  those  letters, 
please.  If  this  falls  with  the  address  up,  I'll 
mail  it,"  and  she  chose  one  and  handed  me 
the  others;  "if  the  flap  side  turns  up,  I'll 
destroy  it." 

She  sent  it  spinning  into  the  air.  A  branch 
caught  and  held  it  an  instant,  then  it  fell, 
turning  over  and  over,  and  lay  straight  on 
edge  against  a  weed. 

148 


ALICE 

"No  decision!"  I  cried.  "It's  an  exact 
perpendicular." 

She  knelt  beside  it,  pondering.  "I  think 
it  leans  just  a  trifle  to  the  address  side," 
she  announced.  "Therefore  you  may  return 
it  to  your  pocket  and  it  goes  into  the  post- 
office." 

"These  letters  would  probably  answer  a 
lot  of  questions  for  me  if  I  dared  run  away 
with  them,"  I  suggested. 

"The  thought  does  you  no  credit,  sir.  You 
promised  not  to  meddle,  but  just  to  let  things 
take  their  course,  and  I  must  say  that  you 
are  constantly  improving.  At  times  you 
grow  suspicious — yes,  you  know  you  do — 
but,  take  it  all  in  all,  you  do  very  well." 

At  the  post-office  she  dropped  all  the  letters 
but  one  into  the  chute.  "It  really  did  fall  a 
little  to  the  address  side?"  she  questioned.' 

I  gave  my  judgment  that  the  letter  stood 
straight  on  edge,  inclining  neither  way. 

"If  my  life  hung  in  the  balance,  I  should 
certainly  not  act  where  fate  had  been  so 
timid." 

"Perhaps  this  does  affect  you,"  she  said, 
quite  soberly.  And  there  in  the  lobby  of 
149 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

the  little  Barton  post-office,  for  the  first  time, 
I  indulged  the  hope  that  there  was  something 
more  than  friendliness  and  kindness  in  her 
eyes.  Her  usual  composure  was  gone — for  a 
moment  only — and  she  fingered  the  envelope 
nervously  in  her  slim,  expressive  hands.  A 
young  woman  clerk  thrust  her  head  through 
the  delivery  window  and  manifested  a  pro 
found  interest  in  our  colloquy. 

"Suppose,"  said  Alice  musingly,  "I  were 
to  tell  you  that  if  I  mail  this  letter  the  effect 
will  be  to  detain  me  in  America  for  some  time; 
if  I  don't  send  it,  I  shall  have  to  write  an 
other  that  will  mean  that  I  shall  go  very 
soon.  If  I  stay  on  at  Barton  instead  of  going 
home  to  take  up  my  little  part  again  for  Eng 
land  in  the  war,  it  will  be  an  act  of  selfish 
ness — just  some  more  of  my  foolishness, 
more  of  the  make-believe  life  that  Constance 
and  I  have  been  living  here." 

"I  want  you  to  stay,"  I  said  earnestly, 
taking  the  letter.  "Let  me  be  your  fate  in 
this — in  everything  that  affects  your  life 
forever." 

She  walked  quickly  to  the  door,  and  I 
dropped  the  letter  into  the  chute  and  hurried 
after  her. 

150 


ALICE 

"You  didn't  turn  round,"  I  said  as  we 
started  down  the  street.  "For  all  you  know, 
I've  got  the  letter  in  my  pocket." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  a  bit  frightened!  It  would 
be  just  as  interesting  one  way  as  another." 

"But  I  want  you  to  stay  forever,"  I  de 
clared  as  we  waited  on  the  curb  for  a  truck 
to  pass. 

"The  remark  is  almost  impertinent,"  she 
answered,  "when  I've  known  you  only  seven 
days." 

"They've  been  wonderful  days.  It  really 
makes  no  difference  about  letters  or  your 
duties  elsewhere.  Where  you  go  I  shall  cer 
tainly  follow;  that's  something  I  should  like 
to  have  understood  here  and  now." 

Loitering  along  the  beach  on  our  way  home, 
I  was  guiltily  conscious  that  I  was  making 
love  rather  ardently  to  a  lady  who  had  in 
troduced  herself  to  me  as  my  uncle's  widow. 
The  sensation  was,  on  the  whole,  very  agree 
able.  .  .  . 

"Mr.  Torrence  and  Mr.  Raynor,"  Antoine 
announced  as  we  were  leaving  the  dinner- 
table. 

"Mr.    Raynor?"    asked    Alice.      "Who, 
pray,  is  Mr.  Raynor?" 
151 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

Their  arrival  together  chilled  me,  a  chill 
increased  by  Torrence's  frosty  greeting  as 
he  gripped  my  hand  angrily  and  hissed  in 
my  ear: 

"You've  deceived  me  about  this  whole 
business!  I  suggest  that  you  leave  the 
room." 

I  was  walking  toward  the  door  when  Mrs. 
Farnsworth  protested. 

"You  are  not  going?  Alice,  there  is  no 
reason  why  Mr.  Singleton  should  leave  us." 

"Of  course  he  is  not  going,"  said  Alice. 
She  was  established  at  ease  in  a  wicker  rocker, 
unconcernedly  plying  the  ostrich-plume  fan. 

"There  may  be  matters —  '  began  Tor- 
rence. 

"Oh,  nothing  that  Bob  can't  hear!"  Alice 
declared. 

"Very  well,"  muttered  Torrence,  frowning 
his  complete  disapproval. 

He  fidgeted  for  a  moment  and  tried  to 
catch  Raynor's  eye,  but  Raynor's  face  ex 
pressed  amusement.  I  found  myself  liking 
Raynor  very  much. 

"Mr.  Raynor  told  me  that  he  wished  to 
speak  to  Mrs.  Bashford  privately,"  said 
152 


ALICE 

Torrence.  "If  he's  satisfied,  I'm  sure  I  have 
no  objection  to  Mr.  Singleton's  remaining. 
I  regret  that  my  own  duty  is  a  disagreeable 
one." 

"Really!"  murmured  Alice  with  nicely 
shaded  impudence. 

"I  am  convinced,  beyond  any  question," 
said  Torrence  sharply,  "that  you  are  not 
the  widow  of  the  late  Raymond  B.  Bash- 
ford!" 

"That  statement,"  said  Alice  without 
ceasing  the  languid  flutter  of  the  fan,  "is 
correct — quite  correct." 

"Certainly:  it  is  entirely  true,"  affirmed 
Mrs.  Farnsworth. 

"And  your  coming  here  as  you  did  is,  if 
you  will  pardon  my  frankness,  susceptible  of 
very  disagreeable  constructions.  It  is  my 
painful  duty- 
He  choked  upon  his  duty  until  Raynor 
spoke,  smiling  broadly. 

"I  find  my  duty  really  a  privilege,"  he 
said.  "Not  only  are  you  not  Mrs.  Bash- 
ford,"  he  went  on  with ,  the  utmost  good 
humor,  "but  you  are  a  very  different  person. 
I  should  explain  that  I  represent  the  Amer- 
153 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

lean  State  Department,  and  that  our  govern 
ment  has  been  asked  by  the  British  Embassy 
to  find  you  and  deliver  a  certain  message  to 
you." 

"Oh,  papa  wants  me  to  come  home!" 
cried  Alice.  "It's  droll,  Constance,  that 
papa  should  have  thought  of  making  an  af 
fair  of  state  of  us.  Dear  papa  will  always 
indulge  me  just  so  far,  and  then  he  becomes 
alarmed." 

"He's  certainly  alarmed  now!"  laughed 
Ray  nor.  "But  the  ambassador  has  warned 
us  to  be  most  tactful  and  circumspect.  You 
may  not  know  that  Sir  Arnold  Seabring  is 
on  his  way  to  this  country  on  a  confidential 
mission.  That,  of  course,  is  not  for  publica 
tion." 

"Sir  Arnold  Seabring?"  gasped  Torrence. 

"The  father  of  the  Honorable  Miss  Sea- 
bring,"  replied  Raynor  with  an  elucidating 
nod  toward  Alice. 

"But  how—"  I  began. 

"Mrs.  Bashford,  the  widow  of  your  uncle, 
is  the  Honorable  Miss  Seabring's  aunt.  Is 
that  quite  correct?" 

"It  is  all  true,"  said  Alice.    "I  am  a  fraud, 


ALICE 

an  impostor.  You  might  go  on  and  say  that 
Mrs.  Farnsworth  is  the  wife  of  Sir  Cecil  Ar- 
rowsmith.  But  all  the  guilt  is  mine.  It  was 
my  idea  to  come  here  and  play  a  little,  because 
I  knew  Aunt  Alice  wouldn't  mind.  She  knew 
just  what  I  meant  to  do;  really  she  did,  Mr. 
Torrence!  In  fact,  I  have  her  written  per 
mission  to  use  the  house,  which  I  should 
have  shown  you  if  we  had  got  in  a  pinch. 
But  it  seemed  so  much  more  fun  just  to  let 
matters  take  their  course.  It's  a  pet  theory 
of  mine  that  life  is  a  dull  affair  unless  we 
trust  to  luck  a  little.  After  my  brother's 
death  I  was  very  unhappy  and  had  gone  out 
East  to  visit  Aunt  Alice,  who  is  a  great  roamer. 
I  thought  it  would  be  nice  to  stop  here  on 
the  way  home,  just  for  a  lark,  without  telling 
papa,  who  was  frantically  cabling  me  to  hurry 
back  to  England.  This  isn't  the  first  time 
I've  played  hide-and-seek  with  my  family. 
I  was  always  doing  that  as  a  child;  and  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  my  general  waywardness 
I  should  never  have  known  you,  Constance. 
Why,  I  shouldn't  have  known  you,  gentle 
men  !  It  has  all  been  so  delightful !" 
This  nai've  confession  amused  Raynor 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

greatly,  but  Torrence  was  seeing  nothing  in 
it  but  a  dangerous  escapade. 

"In  the  name  of  the  Bainbridge  Trust 
Company,  I  must  notify  you,"  he  began, 
"that  by  representing  yourself  as  another 
person,  entering  into  possession  of  a  large 
property— 

"But  we've  been  paying  all  our  own  ex 
penses;  we  haven't  taken  any  money  from 
you,"  pleaded  Alice. 

"Of  course  you  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing," 
affirmed  Raynor.  "My  instructions  are  to 
give  you  any  sum  of  money  you  ask.  In  fact, 
the  Government  of  the  United  States  is  in 
structed  to  assume  full  responsibility  for  you 
until  your  father  arrives.  May  I  go  on  and 
clarify  matters  for  these  gentlemen,  for  Mr. 
Torrence  at  least  is  entitled  to  a  full  expla 
nation?" 

"Constance,"  said  Alice,  turning  with  a 
little  shrug  to  her  friend,  "we  have  been 
caught!  Our  story  is  being  spoiled  for  us. 
Please  go  on,  Mr.  Raynor.  Just  what  does 
the  American  State  Department  have  to  say 
about  us?" 

"That  you  are  endowed  with  a  very  unusual 
156 


ALICE 

personality,"  continued  Raynor,  his  eyes 
twinkling.  "You  are  not  at  all  content  to 
remain  in  that  station  of  life  to  which  you 
were  bom;  you  like  playing  at  being  all  sorts 
of  other  persons.  Once,  so  your  friend  the 
ambassador  confided  to  me,  you  ran  away 
and  followed  a  band  of  gypsies,  which  must 
have  been  when  you  were  a  very  little  girl." 

"I  was  seven,"  said  Alice,  "and  the  gypsies 
were  nice  to  me." 

"And  then  you  showed  talent  for  the 
stage— 

"A  dreadful  revelation!"  she  exclaimed. 

"But  you  don't  know  that  it  was  really 
your  father  who  managed  to  have  Mrs.  Farns- 
worth,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  actresses 
in  England,  take  charge  of  you." 

"No!  Alice  never  knew  that!"  said  Mrs. 
Farnsworth,  laughing.  "I  was  her  chaperon 
as  well  as  her  preceptress;  but  Alice's  father 
knew  that  if  Alice  found  it  out  it  would  spoil 
the  adventure  for  her.  Alice  must  do  things 
in  her  own  way." 

"You  are  a  fraud,"  said  Alice,  "but  I  al 
ways  suspected  you  a  little." 

"Speaking  of  the  stage,"  resumed  Raynor, 


LADY  LARKSPUR 

"it  is  also  a  part  of  my  instructions  that  the 
Honorable  Miss  Seabring  shall  be  discouraged 
from  any  further  adventures  in  that  direction; 
she's  far  too  talented;  there's  danger  of  her 
becoming  a  great  luminary.  In  other  words, 
she  is  not  to  grace  the  boards  again  as  Violet 
Dewing." 

Alice's  brow  clouded,  and  she  turned  to 
me.  "That  was  settled  when  you  mailed 
that  letter  for  me.  It  was  to  make  an  ap 
pointment  with  an  American  playwright  who 
wants  me  to  appear  in  a  most  adorable 
comedy." 

"His  name  is  Dick  Searles,"  I  said,  "and 
he's  my  most  intimate  friend." 

She  professed  indignation  when  I  told  of 
my  eavesdropping  in  the  woods,  but  when  I 
explained  that  I  knew  all  about  the  play  and 
Searles's  despairing  search  for  her  she  was 
enormously  pleased. 

"How  wonderful!"  she  exclaimed.  "You 
know  I  told  you,  Constance,  that  if  we  really 
threw  ourselves  in  the  path  of  adventure 
mystery  would  come  out  to  meet  us  in  silken 
sandals." 

"But  you  will  not  appear  in  this  play?" 
158 


ALICE 

asked  Raynor  anxiously.  "It  is  the  business 
of  the  Government  of  the  United  States  to 
see  that  you  commit  no  further  indiscretions. 
There  is  another  matter  which  I  hope  you 
can  clear  up.  You  are  not  only  a  subject 
of  concern  to  the  British  Embassy,  but  the 
French  ambassador  also  has  appealed  to  us 
to  assist  him  in  a  trifling  matter!" 

"The  French  ambassador?"  Alice  ex 
claimed  with  a  surprise  I  knew  to  be  unfeigned. 
"I  thought  the  dear  Montani  was  an  Ital 
ian?" 

"We  will  continue  to  call  him  Montani, 
but  he's  a  Frenchman  and  one  of  the  keenest 
men  in  the  French  Secret  Service.  You  have 
caused  him  the  deepest  anguish." 

"Please  hurry  on!"  She  bent  forward 
with  childish  delight.  "This  is  a  part  of  the 
story  we've  been  living  that  I  really  know 
nothing  about.  I  hope  it  won't  be  disap 
pointing!" 

Raynor  laughed  and  shook  his  head. 
"It's  fortunate  that  Montani  is  a  gentle 
man,  anxious  to  shield  and  protect  you.    You 
have  a  fan  in  your  hand- 
She  spread  it  for  our  inspection. 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

"A  harmless  trinket,  but  without  it  the 
adventure  would  have  been  very  tame." 

"The  story  of  the  fan  is  in  the  most  secret 
archives  of  Paris  and  Washington.  When 
you  were  packing  up  in  Tokyo  to  come  home 
on  the  very  last  day  before  your  departure 
a  lady  called  on  you  whom  you  knew  as  Ma 
dame  Volkoff." 

"That  dear  woman!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Farnsworth.  "We  knew  her  very  well." 

"Almost  too  well,"  cried  Raynor.  "A 
cultivated  woman  and  exceedingly  clever, 
but  a  German  spy.  She  had  collected  some 
most  interesting  data  with  reference  to  Japa 
nese  armament  and  defenses,  but  suspecting 
that  she  was  being  watched,  she  hit  upon  a 
most  ingenious  way  of  getting  the  information 
across  the  Pacific,  expecting  to  communicate 
with  German  agents  in  America  who  could 
pick  it  up  and  pass  it  on  to  Berlin.  You  see, 
she  thought  you  an  easy  mark.  She  got  hold 
of  a  fan  which  Montani  informs  me  is  the 
exact  counterpart  of  that  one  you  hold.  She 
reduced  her  data  to  the  smallest  possible 
compass,  concealed  it  in  her  fan,  and  watched 
for  a  chance  to  exchange  with  you.  The 
1 60 


ALICE 

astute  Montani  found  the  Japanese  artisan 
who  had  done  the  tinkering  for  her  and  sur 
mised  that  you  were  to  be  made  the  uncon 
scious  bearer  of  the  incriminating  papers. 
Montani  jumped  for  the  steamer  you  were 
sailing  on  with  every  determination  to  get 
the  fan.  His  professional  pride  was  aroused, 
and  it  was  only  after  he  found  it  impossible 
to  steal  the  fan  that  he  asked  our  assistance. 
He's  a  good  fellow,  a  gentleman  in  every 
sense,  and  with  true  French  chivalry  wanted 
to  do  the  job  without  disturbing  you  in  any 
way." 

We  pressed  closer  about  Raynor  as  he 
took  the  fan,  spread  it  open,  and  held  it  close 
against  a  table-lamp.  "The  third,  sixth,  and 
ninth,"  he  counted.  "You  will  notice  that 
those  three  pieces  of  ivory  are  a  trifle  thicker 
and  not  as  transparent  as  the  others.  Glanc 
ing  at  them  casually  in  an  ordinary  light, 
you  would  never  suspect  that  they  had  been 
hollowed  out,  an  exceedingly  delicate  piece 
of  work.  It's  a  pity  to  spoil  anything  so 
pretty,  but — 

He  snapped  the  top  of  one  of  the  panels, 
disclosing  a  neatly  folded  piece  of  thin  paper. 
161 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

"  If  you  are  all  satisfied,  I  will  not  go  further. 
I  want  to  deliver  this  to  the  French  Embassy 
intact.  I  expect  Montani  here  to-night;  he 
will  no  doubt  be  enormously  relieved." 

A  machine  whizzed  into  the  driveway,  and 
Montani  came  in  brushing  past  the  astonished 
Antoine,  who  had  answered  the  bell. 

"The  fan  is  safe,"  cried  Raynor;  "you 
may  complete  the  identification." 

"I've  handled  this  whole  affair  most 
stupidly,"  said  Montani  after  a  hurried 
examination.  "I'm  satisfied  that  a  German 
agent  in  America  has  picked  up  the  trail  of 
the  fan.  One  or  two  lines  of  my  own  com 
munications  failed  to  work,  and  after  report 
ing  the  whole  matter  to  the  French  Embassy 
I  began  searching  for  a  man,  the  most  dan 
gerous  of  all  the  German  spies,  who  had  been 
intrusted  with  the  business  of  recovering 
Madame  Volkoffs  fan  and  passing  the  con 
tents  on  to  Berlin.  This  person  has  been 
representing  himself  as  a  French  secret  agent; 
he's  enormously  plausible.  I  feared  he  might 
attempt  what  I  failed  to  do.  If " 

Alice  glanced  at  me,  and  I  stepped  to  the 
wall  and  punched  the  button. 
162 


ALICE 

"Antoine,"  I  said,  "tie  the  arms  of  the 
prisoner  in  the  tool-house  and  bring  him 
here." 

"A  man  in  the  tool-house!"  Montani, 
Torrence,  and  Raynor  ejaculated  in  concert. 

"Oh,  yes,"  murmured  Alice,  "that's  the 
pleasantest  chapter  of  all.  Our  grenadiers 
captured  a  whole  invading  army  that  made 
a  night  attack — one  of  the  most  remarkable 
engagements  of  the  present  war,  Mr.  Tor 
rence." 

"The  battle  of  the  Bell-Hops,"  I  suggested. 
"The  prisoner  will  be  here  in  a  moment." 

While  we  waited  Montani  produced  a 
photograph,  instantly  recognizable  as  a  like 
ness  of  our  prisoner. 

"My  reputation  is  saved!"  he  exclaimed 
excitedly.  "That  he  should  have  been  caught 
here !  It  is  too  much !  I  shall  never  forgive 
myself  for  not  warning  you  of  the  danger. 
But  you  understand,  mesdames,  that  I  was 
sincerely  anxious  to  recover  the  fan  without 
letting  you  know  its  importance.  When  I 
found  at  Seattle  and  Chicago  that  you  were 
travelling  under  assumed  names,  I  was — 
pray,  pardon  me — deeply  puzzled,  the  more 
163 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

so  because  I  had  satisfied  myself  in  Tokyo 
that  you  were  loyal  Englishwomen,  and  I 
believed  you  to  be  innocent  of  complicity  with 
Madame  Volkoff.  Why  you  should  have 
changed  your  names,  I  didn't  know,  but  it's 
not  my  affair  now." 

"We  saw  you  on  the  steamer  and  again 
in  the  hotel  at  Chicago.  It  was  very  amus 
ing  to  be  followed.  We  gave  you  the  slip, 
stopped  at  Buffalo  to  see  Niagara,  and  you 
came  on  here  and  scared  the  servants  to 
death !  But  you  were  generous  at  every 
point,"  said  Alice.  "We  changed  our  names 
so  we  could  amuse  ourselves  here — at  Bob's 
expense.  So  now  I  ask  everybody's  forgive 
ness!" 

The  prisoner,  arriving  at  this  moment,  be 
came  the  centre  of  interest.  Without  a  word 
Montani  walked  up  to  him,  brushed  back 
his  hair,  and  called  our  attention  to  a  scar 
on  the  crown  of  his  head. 

"There  can  be  no  mistake.  This  is  Adolph 
Schwenger,  who  passes  as  readily  for  a  French 
man  as  I  do  for  an  Italian.  The  capture  is 
of  great  importance.  I  shall  want  the  names 
of  all  the  persons  who  assisted  in  the  matter." 
164 


ALICE 

"It  isn't  quite  clear  to  me,"  remarked 
Raynor,  turning  to  me,  "why  you  held  that 
fellow  and  said  nothing  about  it.  If  there 
had  been  a  mistake,  it  would  have  been  just 
a  little  embarrassing  for  you,  Singleton." 

"Chivalry!"  Mrs.  Farnsworth  answered 
for  me.  "An  anxious  concern  for  the  peace 
and  dignity  of  two  foolish  women !  I  didn't 
know  there  was  so  much  chivalry  left  in  the 
world." 

An  hour  was  spent  in  explanations,  and 
Raynor  declared  that  I  must  write  a  full  ac 
count  of  the  Allied  army  in  Connecticut  and 
the  capture  of  the  spy.  The  State  archives 
contained  nothing  that  touched  this  episode 
for  piquancy,  he  declared;  and  even  the  be 
wildered  Torrence  finally  saw  the  joke  of 
the  thing  and  became  quite  human. 

Raynor  and  Montani  decided  after  a  con 
ference  that  the  German  agent  should  be 
taken  to  New  York  immediately,  and  I  called 
Flynn  to  drive  them  down. 

"It's  most  fortunate,   sir,  that  you  sent 

for  him  just  when  you  did !"  announced  An- 

toine,  nearly  bursting  with  importance.    "The 

boys  had  heard  queer  sounds  in  the  night, 

165 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

but  could  find  nothing  wrong.  The  prisoner 
had  taken  up  the  flooring  at  the  back  of  the 
tool-house,  and  was  scooping  up  the  dirt. 
He'd  got  a  place  pretty  near  big  enough  to 
let  him  through.  I  suppose  we  ought  to 
have  noticed  it,  sir." 

"You  managed  the  whole  thing  perfectly, 
Antoine — you  and  all  of  you." 

It  was  just  as  Raynor  and  Montani  were 
leaving  the  house  with  the  prisoner  that  we 
heard  a  commotion  in  the  direction  of  the 
gates.  I  had  sent  word  that  no  one  was  to 
be  admitted  to  the  grounds,  but  as  I  ran  out 
the  front  door  a  machine  was  speeding  madly 
toward  the  house.  A  dozen  of  the  guards 
were  yelling  their  protests  at  the  invasion, 
and  a  spurt  of  fire  preluded  the  booming  of 
Zimmerman's  shotgun. 

"Get  your  man  into  the  car  and  beat  it," 
I  shouted  to  Raynor,  thinking  an  attempt 
was  about  to  be  made  to  rescue  the  prisoner. 

The  touring-car  left  just  as  a  Barton  taxi 
flashed  into  the  driveway.  The  driver  was 
swearing  loudly  at  one  of  the  Tyringham 
veterans  who  had  wedged  himself  into  the 
door  of  the  machine.  With  some  difficulty 
166 


ALICE 

I  extricated  Scotty  from  his  hazardous  posi 
tion. 

Searles  jumped  out  (I  had  forgotten  that 
he  might  arrive  that  night),  but  before  I 
could  greet  him  he  swung  round  and  assisted 
a  lady  to  alight — a  short,  stout  lady  in  a 
travelling  cap,  wrapped  in  a  coat  that  fell 
to  her  heels.  She  began  immediately  to 
deliver  orders  in  an  authoritative  tone  as  to 
the  rescue  of  her  belongings.  Searles  dived 
into  the  taxi  and  began  dragging  out  a  vast 
amount  of  small  luggage,  but  my  attention 
was  diverted  for  a  moment  by  Alice,  who 
jumped  down  the  steps  and  clasped  her  arms 
about  the  neck  of  the  stout  lady. 

"Aunt  Alice !"  I  heard  her  saying.  "Why 
didn't  you  tell  us  to  meet  you?" 

"Why  didn't  I  tell  you?"  demanded  the 
stout  lady.  "The  moment  you  left  me  I 
knew  I'd  made  a  mistake  in  letting  you  come 
over  here  on  one  of  your  absurd  larks !  And 
from  the  row  I  had  getting  into  the  premises 
I  judge  that  you're  at  your  old  tricks.  Fired 
upon!  Treated  as  though  I  were  an  out 
law!  You  shall  never  go  out  of  my  sight 
again!" 

167 


LADY   LARKSPUR 

"Oh,  please  don't  scold  me !"  Alice  pleaded 
and  turning  to  me:  "This  is  Bob  Singleton, 
your  nephew." 

Mrs.  Bashford — and  I  made  no  question 
that  Searles's  companion  was  indubitably 
my  uncle's  widow — gave  me  her  hand  and 
smiled  in  a  way  that  showed  that  she  was  not 
so  greatly  displeased  with  Alice  as  her  words 
implied. 

"Pay  that  driver  for  me  and  don't  fail  to 
tip  him.  Those  Methuselahs  at  the  gate 
all  but  killed  him.  It  was  only  the  vigorous 
determination  of  this  gentleman,  who  very 
generously  permitted  me  to  share  the  only 
motor  at  the  station,  that  I  got  through  the 
gates  alive!  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  what 
is  your  name?" 

"Mrs.  Bashford,"  I  interposed,  "my  friend, 
Mr.  Searles." 

"Mr.  Searles!"  cried  Alice,  dropping  a 
cage  containing  some  weird  Oriental  bird 
which  had  been  among  my  aunt's  impedi 
menta.  The  bird  squawked  hideously. 

"Miss  Violet  Dewing,  permit  me  to  pre 
sent  the  author  of  'Lady  Larkspur' !" 

Poor  Torrence,  clinging  to  a  pillar  for  sup- 
168 


ALICE 

port,  now  revived  sufficiently  to  be  included 
in  the  introductions. 

It  was  a  week  later  that  Alice  and  I  sat 
on  the  stone  wall  watching  the  waves,  at  the 
point  forever  memorable  as  the  scene  of  our 
first  talk. 

"Aunt  Alice  isn't  playing  fair,"  she  said. 
"She  pretends  now  that  it  was  all  my  idea — 
coming  over  to  play  at  being  your  uncle's 
widow,  but  she  really  encouraged  me  to  do  it 
so  I  could  give  her  an  impartial  judgment  of 
your  character.  I'm  her  only  niece  and  her 
namesake,  and  she  relies  on  me  a  good  deal. 
You  know  she's  very,  very  rich,  and  she  had 
never  any  idea  of  keeping  your  uncle's  money. 
She  meant  all  the  while  to  give  it  to  you — 
provided  she  found  you  were  nice.  And  she 
thinks  you  are  very  nice." 

"Your  own  opinion  of  me  would  be  in 
teresting,"  I  suggested. 

She  had  gathered  a  handful  of  pebbles  and 
was  flinging  them  fitfully  at  a  bit  of  drift 
wood.  I  wished  her  lips  hadn't  that  little 
quiver  that  preluded  laughter  and  that  her 
eyes  were  not  the  haven  of  all  the  dreams  in 
the  world. 

169 


She  landed  a  pebble  on  the  target  before 
replying. 

"You  are  very  nice,  I  think,"  she  said 
with  disconcerting  detachment.  "At  first 
I  was  afraid  you  didn't  like  nonsense,  but 
you  really  got  through  very  well,  considering 
the  trouble  I  caused  you.  But  I'm  in  trouble 
myself  now.  Papa  will  land  to-morrow. 
He's  the  grandest,  dearest  man  in  all  this 
world,  but  when  he  finds  that  I'm  going  to 
act  in  Mr.  Searles's  play  he  will  be  terribly 
cut  up.  Of  course  it  will  not  be  for  long. 
Even  if  it's  a  big  success,  I'm  to  be  released 
in  three  months.  Constance  and  Sir  Cecil 
think  I  owe  it  to  myself  to  appear  in  the 
piece;  they're  good  enough  to  say  nobody 
else  can  do  it  so  well — which  is  a  question. 
I'm  going  to  give  all  the  money  I  earn  to  the 
blind  soldiers." 

(I  wished  the  tears  in  her  eyes  didn't  make 
them  more  lovely  still !) 

"Being  what  you  are  and  all  you  are,  it 
would  be  brutal  for  me  to  add  to  the  number 
of  things  you  have  to  tell  your  father.  I'm 
a  very  obscure  person,  and  he  is  a  gentleman 
of  title  and  otherwise  distinguished.  You 

are  the  Honorable  Miss 

170 


ALICE 

"Papa  has  said  numbers  of  times,"  she 
began  softly,  looking  far  out  across  the  blue 
Sound — "he  has  said,  oh,  very  often,  that 
he'll  never  stop  troubling  about  me  until — 
until  I'm  happily  married." 

"When  you  came  here  you  wore  a  wedding- 
ring,"  I  remarked  casually. 

"It  was  only  a  'property'  ring,  to  help 
deceive  you.  I  bought  it  in  Chicago.  When 
Aunt  Alice  came  I  threw  it  away." 

"The  finger  seems  lonesome  without  it," 
I  said.  "If  I  get  you  another,  I  hope  you'll 
take  better  care  of  it." 

"If  you  should  put  it  there,"  she  replied, 
looking  fixedly  at  the  hand,  "that  would  be 
very,  very  different." 

THE  END 


171 


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